


Stuck Inside These Walls, Maybe There is Hope For Me.

by Starsrainpain



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alpha Bellamy Blake, Alpha Clarke Griffin, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Bellarke, Gen, LMAO, Minor Monty Green/Nathan Miller, Minor Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Monty Green & Clarke Griffin Friendship, Protective Bellamy, Season/Series 01, So half of the delinquents get radiation poisoning, Sort Of, Werewolves, but it, it just turns them into werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-03-02 13:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13319034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starsrainpain/pseuds/Starsrainpain
Summary: AU where half the delinquents soak up radiation like a sponge. The other half just watch the moon cycle.-





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke still hasn’t had time to process the fact that Wells was found this morning, sliced through his neck and fingers chopped off, when people begin dropping to the ground or crying out in pain so loudly they lose their voices.

 

Clarke does her best to help them.

 

It isn’t enough.

 

In three days they lose three kids, all under sixteen. The few delinquents who aren’t too distracted by the screaming help Clarke move the bodies to their graves, and she leaves them to bury their friends.

 

Now, she crouches beside Bellamy as the sun sets and clenches her fists.

 

“I need you to tell me what it feels like.”

 

“Well, Princess, in case you couldn’t gather from the _screaming_ , it feels like hell.” Bellamy keeps his eyes shut as he growls out an answer for her. Clarke sighs, moving to sit on her knees.

 

“Bellamy, _please_ ,” Her voice breaks and she hangs her head, ashamed. She doesn’t know how to help everyone, and the people who’re supposed to help _her_ are all either incapacitated or dead. She takes a breath and tries again. “Using as many descriptive words as you can think of, how does your body feel?”

 

He glares at her, but opens his mouth to answer, only to be cut off by a scream from a few cots away. She clenches her jaw and he nods at her to go, and soon she’s moving toward the noise, trying to discern which of the crumpled delinquents it came from. She finds Fox curled around herself, nose between her knees.

 

Clarke lets Fox squeeze her hand until she passes out.

 

Clarke goes back to Bellamy.

 

“Fox passed out.” She tells him, and sits next to his cot. His face is scrunched in concentration, something she’s only seen a few times since they landed twelve days ago. He’d had enough time to fuck things up for them, getting dozens of kids to remove the only ties they have to the Ark and inspiring chaos, before the sickness had hit the camp. Bellamy had seemed fine for a few days, but after the fifth day of kids passing out while working around the camp, he had joined the sick in the dropship, grumbling the whole time. When the pain hit him, he’d called to Clarke for hours only to realize that he was barely whispering. He doesn’t want to think about the instinctual need he’d had to have her at his side.

 

“Good.” He sighs. He wants this to be over, for all of them.

 

“So,” Clarke takes a deep breath and sits up, looking at Bellamy intently. “Your body.”

 

“Princess, I really don’t think now is the time to start coming on to me.”

 

“Bellamy, I really need you to tell me exactly what you feel like. Seriously.” She sounds like she’s scolding him, and he has to smile at that.

 

“It feels like when you break a bone, but all of them at once. Does that help?” He squirms as the pain in his arm subsides and the pain in his neck picks up again. As much as he feels like dying, he knows he can’t be in as much pain as the others around him, somehow. He looks to Jasper a few cots away, who’s only just began to recover from his encounter outside the walls they’ve built, and knows that he can’t be in anywhere near as much pain as him. When he looks back at Clarke, she’s shaking her head.

 

“It can’t be pneumonia, that doesn’t spread this quickly among people. I don’t know if it could be the flu, everyone’s been vaccinated- unless there’s a different form of it down here, there shouldn’t be so many of us sick.” She looks at her hands, stumped and defeated. Bellamy looks away from her and toward the ceiling. “Do you feel sick?” She asks suddenly. He thinks for a second, then shakes his head. “It’s got to be something radiation related.” She announces, and her face falls. “I- We didn’t learn anything about how to fight radiation sickness in Earth Skills.”

 

Bellamy gulps and tries to think through his years of school. He doesn’t remember the Ark ever even mentioning radiation poisoning. “I guess they weren’t worried about it enough to let us know how to handle it.” He says aloud.

 

“It’s not like the Ark planned to send us down. They weren’t left with much of a choice.” Clarke agrees. “They probably wouldn’t know how to handle it even if they did plan to send us down. No one on the Ark has had to deal with radiation before.”

 

They’re quiet for a moment, and Bellamy can tell that Clarke is trying to ignore the groans that surround them.

 

“Alright, Princess. I’m ready to hear your plan.” He says, and as if she was waiting for his word, her head shoots up.

 

“The Grounders.”

 

It takes a moment for Bellamy to catch up with her thoughts, but when he does, he shakes his head. “No.”

 

Clarke knows that he isn’t leaving any room for argument, but neither is she.

 

“Then what, Bellamy? This isn’t something we can just do ‘whatever the hell we want’ with.” She sighs and rubs her face. “We have to.”

 

Bellamy is about to respond, to tell her they can wait it out, to tell her that it isn’t worth putting the camp at risk, when Monty bursts into the quarantine.

 

“Monty, you can’t be in here, we need-”

 

“Clarke, you need to come outside. Now.” He interrupts her and turns on his heel, leaving the dropship before either of them can say anything else. Clarke looks at Bellamy and frowns, then stands to leave.

 

“Wait,” Bellamy clenches his jaw and pushes himself upright, making to follow Clarke out to the ground, but she pushes him down.

 

“I’ll give you a full report as soon as I can. Stay,” She says, firm, and leaves before he can try again.

 

Clarke strides out into the night air and immediately finds herself following the gazes of everyone left standing. Something is falling from the sky, fast, leaving a streak of flame behind it as it descends. It would be beautiful, if Clarke wasn’t too busy trying to analyze what it could be.

 

“Clarke, what if it’s medicine?” Monty grabs her arm and squeezes. She shakes her head.

 

“The Ark would never sacrifice it’s medicine for us. We’re expendable, remember?” She reminds him, and shakes her head. “No one leaves until I give the word, tell Miller.” She goes back into the dropship, colliding with Bellamy as she pushes through the curtain. He grunts, and she frowns. “What the hell are you doing up?”

 

“I didn’t want to leave the detective work to you, Princess.” He sneers, but lets her lead him back to his cot. She knows he doesn’t trust her, not as much as she needs him to, but she doesn’t have time to argue it now. As much as she wishes she could make decisions alone, the delinquents listen to Bellamy. They have to lead together.

 

“Something from the Ark came down.” She says once he’s laying down, and he begins to sit up again. She wants to push him down again, but just levels him with a glare. He doesn’t flinch. “Monty thinks it’s medicine, but I doubt the Ark would waste that on us.” Bellamy nods, seeming to have already thought that. “It might be food, or a way to contact the Ark. If we can talk to them, we can tell them we need help. Maybe then they’ll send medicine down.” Bellamy presses his lips together, and nods.

 

“It’s dark. The Grounders could be out there, and they have home court advantage. Send a small group in the morning. Finn, Roma, Mbege.”

 

“Finn’s down. He went down a day before you did.”

 

“Princess, I only go down when people ask nicely. I’m not down.” She rolls her eyes at him. “Fine, then Miller and Diggs. Diggs can fight, Miller can track. They’ll be fine.” Clarke nods and sighs.

 

“I hope it’s something useful,” Clarke leans against the wall next to Bellamy’s cot. “But knowing the Ark, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were just trash they wanted to get rid of.” Bellamy snorts. He realizes then that he may have misjudged Clarke. She seems as skeptical of the Ark’s compassion as he is.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke gives Miller the order to take Mbege, Roma, and Diggs into the woods with him later that night, sends the kids to bed, and does a round checking on the sick that reside in the dropship. Finn holds her hand to his chest and asks her to stay with him, which she rejects. When she makes her way back to Bellamy’s cot, he’s asleep, for which she is thankful. She wipes the sweat from his forehead and goes to find Octavia.

 

When she finds Octavia, it’s well after the camp has fallen asleep, and she’s sneaking into camp through a hole in the wall. Clarke watches as Octavia, bold and careful, makes her way through the wall and around the back of the tents to her own. When Octavia ducks inside, Clarke sighs, thinking how Bellamy would react. She takes a moment to consider waking him to let him know, but thinks better of it when she realizes that he’d be out of the dropship and waking everyone in camp within seconds, illness or not. Ultimately, Clarke decides to confront Octavia alone, as quietly as possible.

 

“Octavia?” Clarke enters the tent and calls the girl’s name quietly, hoping for an easy conversation, what she finds, is Octavia packing a bag. “Octavia.” She says, louder, hoping the girl will have an explanation that she can work with.

 

Octavia startles when she hears Clarke, trying to hide the bag behind her as she turns. When Clarke glares at her, she at least looks embarrassed, and for that Clarke decides to take pity. “Where are you planning on going?” She asks, kneeling next to Octavia and handing her the knife she’d been reaching for before she noticed Clarke. Octavia takes it carefully, wrapping it in a shirt before tucking it into the bag.

 

“The sickness isn’t exclusive to the Sky People.” Octavia whispers, and Clarke’s eyes widen. Octavia sounds like she’s repeating something that’s been said to her before, and Clarke’s mind races with the possibilities of what it could mean.

 

“Your brother is sick.” Octavia frowns at that, and turns to Clarke. “Let me come with you. The Grounders have to know more about this.” Clarke sees Octavia process the request, and watches as the decision is made.

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Octavia!” Clarke cries, and immediately scolds herself. She’d promised herself to try and keep this quiet. “You know I won’t tell Bellamy. But you can’t just go alone, I won’t let you.” Clarke can see Octavia slowly taking the defensive, and she jumps to fix it before it’s too late. “Please, Octavia, this effects everyone. Let me help you help them.”

 

Octavia frowns. “I wasn’t going to leave until morning. I just wanted to get packed so I could leave as early as possible, before dawn.” Clarke nods. “I’ll- I’ll come get you when I’m ready to head out. Be ready.” With that, Octavia turns away and continues packing, and Clarke makes to leave. Just as she reaches the tent’s flap, Octavia calls to her again. “Thank you for taking care of my ass of a brother. He means well.” Clarke gives Octavia a small smile and nods, leaving the tent to gather ration packs and water bottles. She finds herself ready to leave within minutes, and decides to check on the sick one more time before she rests just long enough to be ready to leave with Octavia.

 

As she makes her round around the dropship, she notices that the delinquents seem- calmer. No one writhes with pain in their sleep, no one groans as she wipes sweat from their heads. They seem peaceful.

 

It’s concerning.

 

She wonders after it as she finishes checking on the last few- she leaves Bellamy for last, as he seems to be dealing with the least amount of pain, somehow. As she approaches his cot, she sees that just as the others have, he’s relaxed. He’s unmoving, but he doesn’t look tense as she comes closer.

 

That is, until she reaches over to touch his forehead and her fingers find nothing but cloth.

 

A shirt, rolled up to look like a head.

 

Clarke decides right then and there that she hates Bellamy Blake.

 

Her first instinct is to tell Octavia, which leads her back to Octavia’s tent. She hopes the girl hasn’t fallen asleep yet.

 

As she walks into the tent, she realizes that that isn’t something she should be worried about.

 

Octavia’s tent is empty.

 

Clarke decides that the Blake family will be the death of her.

 

And then she’s sprinting into the dropship and shaking Finn’s shoulder.

 

“How do you feel?” She asks as soon as his eyes open. He blinks wearily at her and shrugs.

 

“Better, I think?”

 

“Good, get up. Bellamy took off after that thing that dropped and Octavia disappeared too. Get ready, we leave in ten.” She leaves him to collect himself and runs to find Miller. “Miller!” She says as she pulls on his arm. He groans and cracks an eye open, but sits up when he takes in her widened eyes. “Bellamy and Octavia are missing, and I know they’re not together. We’re going after them, get ready to go.”

 

Clarke leaves Miller’s tent and frantically tries to think of what else she needs to do to take care of camp before she leaves. Making a split second decision, she goes to Monty and wakes him, leaving him with instructions to send Diggs, Roma, and Mbege after Miller if he isn’t back by mid day. Monty nods and asks where she’s going, but she just shakes her head. “I have to go, Monty.”

 

Within ten minutes she’s sending Miller after Octavia, trusting his tracking skills to find her. He gives her a silent nod and takes off into the woods. Finn watches her carefully, and when she nods at him, he leads her in the opposite direction, after what he’s sure are Bellamy’s foot prints.

 

* * *

 

 

It doesn’t take long to find him.

 

He’s bent over a log that fallen, and he’s heaving into the grass like he’s just run a 5k without training for it. Clarke is at his side in an instant, but Finn hangs back, hesitant and watchful.

 

“Bellamy, what the _hell_ is this? What could be so important that you had to _leave camp_ while you’re still sick?” She demands as she pulls him off of the log and into her lap. He scoffs and tries to push away from her, but she holds on. “What is going on, Bellamy?” He frowns as he realizes Finn is close by and pushes away from her, hard, and lands on the ground. When Clarke tries to help him back into a sitting position he shrugs her off, staring hard at Finn and pulling himself upright. Soon, he’s standing, glaring at Finn like he’s just punched Octavia.

 

“Finn. Why are you outside of camp?”

 

“I’m out here with Clarke,” Finn levels a pointed glance at Clarke, who is dumbfounded. Bellamy was just laying on the ground, looking awful, and now he’s standing tall, challenging Finn. Bellamy also glances at Clarke, but his attention remains on Finn. “She asked me to come with her to find you after you disappeared.”

 

“It’s none of your business why I leave camp. You can go back now.” Bellamy turns around and begins to walk away, Clarke hot on his heels, until she realizes that Finn has left. She tries to see him through the trees, but any trace of Finn is gone. She shakes her head and follows Bellamy closely, not wanting to lose him too.

 

“Now that you’ve proven to Finn that you’re as much of an asshole as he already thought you were, will you please tell me why you left? What’s in that pod, Bellamy?” Clarke stumbles as she tries to keep up. She can’t begin to try to decipher his sudden change in behavior right now, not while he’s being unresponsive even as they trek through the woods together. Finally, she grabs his arm and tugs, spinning him around. “Tell me what’s going on, right now. Now, Bellamy.”

 

He takes his time, looking her up and down, taking in her offensive stance. He knows she’s going to put up a fight. She isn’t letting this go. Finally, his whole body seems to sag.

 

“I shot Jaha.” She hears his confession and her breath catches. She can hear her heart hammering in her ears as she realizes she’s standing in front of a murderer.

 

“Why?” She whispers, and he licks his lips, staring over her shoulder.

 

“I- I found out they were sending Octavia to Earth- I couldn’t let her go alone.” He pauses, closing his eyes for a second and taking a deep breath. “Someone came to me with a deal- do this, kill him, and they’d get me on the dropship.” He gulps, watching her take it in. “And I did it.”

 

“Wells’ dad….” Clarke tries to process everything he’s said, and feels the pain of losing Wells all over again. Thelonious wasn’t someone she was very close to, but she did grow up knowing him. He’s the closest thing to an uncle she ever had.

 

But he also floated her father.

 

Clarke remembers being in solitary, wishing she could see Thelonious one last time, just so that she could kill him. She isn’t sure she wouldn’t have, given the chance. She looks back at Bellamy, who’s looking anywhere but at her face.

 

“Good.”

 

It comes out as barely a whisper, but Bellamy hears it loud and clear.

 

He takes her in again, sees her determined look, a challenge. _You shot him and I applaud you. Who’s worse?_ She seems to say without words. He doesn’t let himself get into it.

 

She’s surprised him again.

 

He definitely misjudged her.

 

“You did it for your sister, just like everything else you’ve ever done. No one can blame you for that. Besides, he sent us down here to die and killed half of our parents.” She juts her chin out. “If and when the Ark comes down, they won’t touch you. I won’t let them.” When his only response is the gawk at her, she moves past him a few steps. “Octavia is missing. I sent Miller after her. I can find the pod on my own from here.” When he looks to her for confirmation, she nods, and he takes off into the woods. Just as Finn had done before, he disappears.

 

* * *

 

 

When Clarke finds the pod, there’s a girl climbing out, holding her head and swearing. “Oh my God” Clarke breathes, and the girl’s head snaps up.

 

The girl nods, says “Hi,” and begins to walk toward Clarke, but falls at the last second. Clarke panics, mind going back to when the first of the hundred began collapsing. She calms when she sees the blood on the girl’s head. _Probably just a concussion._ She catches the girl and helps her sit, sure to keep a hand on her back in case she slumps over.

 

“Can I ask why they sent you?”

 

“They didn’t,” The girl shakes her head and stands carefully. “Abby Griffin did. Is this…. Rain?” Despite the mention of her mom, Clarke smiles and nods.

 

“Welcome home.”

 

They hear Clarke’s name called, and Clarke relaxes. “That’s me. Clarke Griffin.” Clarke offers her hand to the girl, who nods and takes it.

 

“Raven Reyes. Your mom sent me- my radio!” Raven pulls away from Clarke and opens the pod door back up. She grins and pulls a radio out of the pod, holding it up for Clarke to see. Clarke sighs, relief washing over her. It’s about time they catch a break.

 

“Clarke?” The voice from the woods calls again, and Clarke turns around to see Finn stepping out of the leaves. She smiles at him, but she’s lost to him as he sees Raven.

 

He says Raven’s name at the same time she says his. He runs to her and takes her into his arms, and they kiss. Clarke looks away, trying to give them their moment. They talk for a moment, and Clarke gathers that Raven built the pod from scrap and that she is very, very in love with Finn Collins. Raven falls again, and this time, Finn catches her.

 

“We need to get her and the radio back to the dropship. I sent Bellamy after Octavia, we need to be ready for them when they get back.” Clarke looks at the sky and sighs. It’s almost mid-day, somehow, which means Monty will be sending the second search party for Octavia soon. “The sooner we get back the better.”

 

* * *

 

 

As they walk, Raven tells them about the council’s plan to vote to kill three hundred people. “Today,” she says, and they walk with a bit more urgency after that.

 

The camp is nearly empty when they walk through the gates, Monty frantically trying to open them alone. “Where is everyone?” Clarke demands. Monty shakes his head.

 

“Everyone who was sick suddenly recovered, and like, _took off_. Jasper said something about being hungry, and then the gates were open and they were all running. Everyone else freaked out and went after them. Mbege, Roma, and Diggs are all still here, somehow. I figured I’d better keep them here until someone came back- you or Bellamy.” Monty spits it all out for her so quickly she asks him to repeat some of it.

 

“You made a good call, keeping them here.” She sighs and folds her arms over her chest. “Finn, bring Raven into the dropship. I’ll be there to stitch her up in a few minutes. Monty, Raven brought a radio with her in the pod that she came in. Try to get it set up while I stitch her up.” Clarke makes to move away, but Monty stops her.

 

“Did you find Bellamy?” He asks, eyes wide with fear. Clarke realizes that even Monty, pacifist that he is, looks up to and respects their rebellious leader.

 

“Yeah, I sent him to find Octavia. We need to hold down the fort, tell Mbege and them to come find me, okay?” He nods and begins to walk away, but pauses when she calls him one last time. “Thank you.” She says, and he beams.

 

The stitches take no time at all, and after Clarke tests Raven for a concussion (which determines that Raven is fine), Raven is practically running to meet Monty and work on the radio. Clarke asks Finn if Raven will need her own tent, and he says absolutely not, to which they both laugh. Mbege, Diggs, and Roma find Clarke in the dropship, and she tells them to stay put, no matter what. She assigns them to guard duty, and Diggs salutes at her with a smile that she returns.

 

By the time the delinquents start making their way back to camp, the sun has almost set, and Clarke’s nerves are absolutely _fried_. They come with food in tow, and fires are rebuilt quickly. It’s not long before almost everyone has been fed and people begin to peel off towards their individual tents. Clarke stays awake, despite her lack of sleep the night before, and waits for the rest of the kids to return. She’s pacing by the gates by the time Roma finds her.

 

“Is it just me, or did all the sick kids, like, disappear?” Roma wonders aloud. Clarke freezes. She doesn’t know how she didn’t realize it before. “All the healthy people are back already, but everyone who was out of commission yesterday is still gone.” Clarke gives Roma a tight nod, and goes to find Monty.

 

He’s on the second floor of the dropship, leaning over the radio with Raven. “Clarke,” he smiles. “We should be talking to them in a few minutes.”

 

“The people who were sick aren’t back yet.” Clarke says in lieu of an answer, and Monty’s face falls. “Miller and Octavia are still gone too.” Monty scrambles out of his seat and leaves Raven to work on the radio.

 

“Do you think something happened?”

 

“I don’t know. But I doubt the kids who are still gone are spending their time looking for Octavia and Miller.” Clarke sighs. “I think it’s time to send Mbege, Diggs, and Roma out to look for them. I hate sending them out when it’s dark-”

 

“It’s what Bellamy would do.” Monty says, determination steeling his face. Clarke nods, and Monty opens the hatch to the ladder. They make their way down together, and find the three people they plan to send out. Clarke explains to them the situation, and the three look at each other.

 

“You’re sure you want us to go now?” Mbege asks, and Clarke nods grimly.

 

“It’s not my favorite thing to do, but we’ve waited long enough. You’ll need weapons, and food, and I’ll put together a first aid kit in case anyone is hurt.” She’s worried, more worried than she can let on. She knows Monty can tell, but the three kids standing in front of her have no idea. “Please be careful.” She adds quietly. Monty stays with them and makes sure they get weapons and food and water while she spares whatever she can for their first aid kit. When they’re packed and ready to go, she sends them off, and Monty holds her hand.

 

“They’ll all come back, you know.” He assures her, and she frowns. They might. But she knows not all of them will. She makes a morbid mental note to find the shovels and have them ready. “Go to sleep, Clarke. I’ll wait up for them. You did good today.” He smiles kindly and nudges her shoulder. “You saved three hundred people’s lives. Go sleep.”

 

She does sleep, but only fitfully, and only for a few hours. She’s woken by howling in the early hours of the morning, and the haunting sound of it echoes off the surrounding hills and keeps her awake until the sun rises.


	2. Oh, The Things We Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy only remembers flashes of his night. 
> 
> Pain. Blood. Running. Moon. Yelling at the moon? More blood.
> 
> He remembers wishing Clarke was with him, and he remembers catching Octavia’s scent as he traversed further into the woods. 
> 
> He wakes up to find he can still catch her scent.
> 
> He also finds that he’s naked.

When Octavia takes off the day after Atom died (almost a week ago, now), she finds Lincoln, collapsed in on himself in the woods. The scene reminds her of her own people, back at camp, and as Lincoln seems to pose no threat to her while he’s like this, she does what she can to help him. 

 

He isn’t able to tell her much, just tells her what plants to find and how to make them into a tea that he can drink to ease the pain. She asks what the illness is, and he gives vague answers about village customs and the moon. 

 

It’s more than a little weird. 

 

She begs him to tell her everything he knows, so she can help her people, but he resists. “I trust you, Octavia of the Sky People.” He’d told her one night as she laid next to him, holding his tea so he could drink. “I do not trust your Alpha’s. I know where your loyalty will lie.”

 

She doesn't quite understand what he means, but she knows he isn’t wrong. 

 

She tries to pry information out of him until he tells her it’s nearing the end of the sickness and that any questions she has should be aimed at keeping herself safe. 

 

So she asks him what to do. 

 

He makes a surprising recovery on the fifth day that she’s with him, after she’s run away from the dropship and abandoned a waiting Clarke (She only feels a little bad. Clarke is needed at camp, especially with Bellamy out of commission. Besides, Octavia knows that she’ll bring whatever information she can get out of Lincoln back to camp, with or without Clarke’s help.). He leads her to a cave that he calls Aijal. “It will keep both of us safe.” He says in lieu of explaining what the word means. She follows him inside. 

 

As night draws nearer, Lincoln gives Octavia a key. “Only let me out once you feel safe.” He instructs, and although she’s confused, she nods. 

 

When the sun goes down, Octavia almost begins to panic. Lincoln’s breaths become shorter, turning almost into a pant, and he thrashes around inside the cage that she’s locked him in. It reminds her of when she first found him, before she was able to make the tea. She asks if she can make the tea and give it to him, but he tells her no. “It’s necessary for me to feel…. All of it.” He groans and she whimpers, watching him change into something that can’t be human. 

 

“Is this what’s happening to everyone at my camp? Are they all changing like this?” She asks, but expects no answer. The creature that lays in the cage is dark, and large, and Octavia can see its strength in the way it breathes. “Lincoln?” She knows that it’s him inside the cage, but the anxiety that clutches her heart begs her to ask him more. He’s told her little to nothing about what would happen to him tonight, and she wants to curse him for not letting her help. 

 

At some point in the night as she watches Lincoln, she sees his whole body tense. There are howls in the distance that send a shiver down her spine, and when she looks back to Lincoln, he howls as well.

 

In the morning, Octavia wakes up to Lincoln moaning inside the cage. When she realizes that he’s human again, she scrambles to unlock the cage (She also pretends to be unphased by his nakedness, but she has a feeling he wouldn’t mind if she was phased by it.). 

 

“Lincoln?” She whispers as she pulls his form from the cage, and he sighs. “You have to tell me everything.” He looks exhausted, so she lays his head in her lap and waits as he sleeps. 

 

He wakes hours later, looking refreshed and bright. 

 

“I’ll answer every question you have, Octavia.” He says before she can get a word out, and brings her fingers to his mouth, where he kisses her knuckles gently. She flushes, but smiles at him. 

 

“You’d better.”

 

* * *

 

Bellamy only remembers flashes of his night. 

 

Pain. Blood. Running. Moon. Yelling at the moon? More blood.

 

He remembers wishing Clarke was with him, and he remembers catching Octavia’s scent as he traversed further into the woods. 

 

Her  _ scent _ . 

 

He could  _ smell  _ where she was. 

 

He could also tell she wasn’t alone.

 

Bellamy feels every bone in his body break and grow together again, but the feeling of- of needing Clarke with him, of knowing which way to go to find Octavia, of Miller being close by- stays with him. 

 

He also finds that he’s naked. 

 

He finds Miller first, looking exhausted. He snorts at Bellamy and tosses him a blanket. “Cover yourself, dude.” Bellamy smiles, relieved that it’s Miller out here that discovers him first. 

 

“Clarke said she sent you to find Octavia?”

 

“Is that who you were with? Clarke? I mean, I don’t know her well, but I’d assumed she’d at least want to be in a tent while she was f-”

 

Bellamy throws the blanket at Miller, who takes the queue to shut up and tosses the blanket back to Bellamy. 

 

“Don’t talk about Clarke like that, Miller.” Bellamy’s voice sounds foreign, even to himself. 

 

“Sorry, chief. Didn’t know you guys were involved, that’s all.” Miller smirks at Bellamy’s confused look.

 

“We aren’t.” Bellamy frowns, and Miller nods, his smirk growing. “Octavia is this way. She’s with someone.”

 

“How do you know where she is?” Miller asks, producing a water bottle for Bellamy, who takes it eagerly. 

 

“I caught her scent.” Bellamy doesn’t mind telling Miller, even if he doesn’t understand it yet. Miller only looks skeptical for a second, then shrugs. 

 

“Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

They find her curled up in a man that is at least twice as big as Bellamy, and covered in more tattoos than Bellamy’s ever seen in his life.

 

Bellamy immediately hates him. 

 

“Nope.” He says loudly, startling the couple from their places on the ground. “No. Absolutely not.” He marches over to Octavia and grabs her arm. He’s forced to let go as the man lunges at him, growling. Bellamy fights back, shoving the man off of him and straddling his chest, punching him in the face until Octavia punches Bellamy. He staggers to the ground and finds Octavia worrying over the man, trying to get him to speak. “Miller,” He says, and Miller appears at his side. “Restrain him.” Miller frowns, as if unhappy to do what he’s being told to do, but does it anyway, pulling Octavia away from the man long enough to tie his wrists together with the cable that he brought. Bellamy grabs Octavia’s arm again, and they leave the cave, Bellamy barely having noticed the cage against the far wall. 

 

* * *

 

Clarke is just about to lose her mind when the first of the recovered delinquents start returning to camp. Raven has been bugging her to come talk to her mother, and Finn has disappeared, unbeknownst to Raven. Monty is trying to keep her at bay, but Clarke can only stall Raven for so long. For now, she’s told Raven that Finn went to gather some herbs for when the delinquents start coming back with injuries, but she has no idea where he is. 

 

Another thing. 

 

Almost all of the returning kids are naked. 

 

Clarke is uncomfortable. 

 

She scrambles to get kids covered, her and Monty flinging tarps and blankets at them as the kids start looking at each other. Clarke is no prude, but she’d rather keep the hundred’s sexual preferences as a private thing. She doesn’t need kids fucking next to the campfires. 

 

Bellamy returns with Octavia in tow, though he quickly assigns Murphy to watch her as he refastens his own blanket around his body like a toga. Miller follows Bellamy, a massive man (thankfully clothed) marching with him, hands tied. Clarke makes to follow them, but before she can, Finn stumbles into her, and he is  _ very  _ naked. 

 

“Clarke, I don’t know what happened. I’m so sorry.” He hugs her, still naked, and she prays to every god that may exist that she’s imagining this. 

 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine, Finn. Let’s get you to your tent- and clothed, okay?” She pushes him off of her and when he just stands and stares at her, she sighs and leads him to his tent. 

 

Which, of course, is where Raven waits. 

 

“What the hell is this?” Raven demands as Clarke enters the tent with Finn following close behind. “I thought he was just getting some herbs!” 

 

“Herbs?” Finn looks to Clarke. “I wasn’t getting herbs.” 

 

“Then what the hell were you doing? Naked?  _ With Clarke? _ ” Raven is yelling now, and Clarke can only imagine the crowd that must be forming outside. Thankfully, as usual, Monty decides then is the best time to interrupt.

 

“Clarke? Hey, um, Bellamy has a grounder. Apparently he knows a lot? Also, Charlotte is crying in your tent.” He grabs her arm and drags her out of the tent before she can say anything to Finn or Raven. “Charlotte isn’t actually crying, you just sounded like you needed backup.” Monty winks. “You do need to go see Bellamy though. That part was true.” Monty leaves her, presumably to find Jasper and get him clothed. 

 

Clarke races to find Bellamy, who apparently told no one where he was going minutes ago. She finds Miller at the ramp of the dropship. “Sorry, Captain, can’t let you in. Bellamy’s orders.” Miller folds his arms and gives her a pointed look. 

 

“Get the hell out of my way, Miller.” She stops at the look he’s giving her. “What?” She snaps, and he shrugs. 

 

“Just figured you’d want to be resting, considering the, ah, activities you participated in last night.” He smirks, and she sighs. 

 

“Who are you, Murphy?” She asks, and steps around him, ignoring the shouted “Hey!” from Murphy as he watches Octavia. Miller sighs. “Quit antagonizing me and go help Monty clothe people.” She orders, and watches as he goes to find Monty. 

 

Clarke climbs the ladder to the second floor of the dropship quickly, hammering on the hatch when she realizes it’s locked. “Bellamy! Open the damn door!” She hears grunts and groans as Bellamy does…. Whatever he’s doing to the grounder. Eventually, the seal on the hatch pops, and he lifts it up, letting her in. 

 

“Princess,” He breathes, and she thinks for a second there’s something like relief in his voice, but she doesn’t have time to dwell on it as she takes in the scene in front of her. She moves past him to gape at the wounds he’s inflicted on the grounder within the past few minutes- she couldn’t have been distracted by Finn for longer than five minutes, but the wounds on the grounders chest and arms suggest that Bellamy’s had much longer than that to rip into him. 

 

“Bellamy,” She frowns at him over her shoulder, sees his breath catch. “What did you do?”

 

“What do you mean?” He takes a defensive stance, mimicking his sister’s pose from the other night. “He deserves it.”

 

“For what, Bellamy? What did he do?” She asks, cringing at the deepest cut, which runs from the top of the grounders right pectoral to the bottom of his left. 

 

“I found him…. Sleeping. With Octavia.” 

 

Clarke whirls on him, getting in his face without hesitance. “So you torture him? Injure him? Try to kill him?” She clenches her fists at her side so she doesn’t do something stupid, like hit Bellamy. “Is this what you’re going to do to every boy or man that touches her? Really, Bellamy?” When he doesn’t move as she comes closer, she puts her hands on his chest and shoves him. “She’s spent her entire life locked up in a hole in the floor, and now she finally has a chance to breathe, to live, and you’re  _ torturing _ the boy- man- that you found sleeping with her! Not even having sex, just sleeping?” She spins away, ignoring the look on Bellamy’s face and going to inspect the grounder again. “You’re pathetic, Bellamy.” She finds one of the knives Bellamy must have been using and cuts the tie on the grounders left arm. He rolls his shoulder carefully, still watching Clarke. 

 

“I’m pathetic?” Bellamy growls, and he must have snuck up on her, because he’s right behind her and she didn’t notice. He pulls the knife from her hand as she moves toward the grounders right arm, and she spins around. “I’m protecting us. He’s a grounder.” Bellamy snarls the last word, glaring hard at the man behind Clarke. “What if he was-  _ seducing  _ Octavia to get information on us? Ever think of that, Princess?” Again, he snarls the name at her, throwing it like a spear. She doesn’t take it. 

 

“Did  _ you _ ever think that maybe he has information we need on the grounders? Or hell, maybe on the sickness that you’ve so miraculously recovered from?” Clarke moves back to the table Bellamy has his weapons on, picks another knife up. “See if he’ll ever help us now, Bellamy.” It’s her turn to spit out his name like it’s battery acid. His eyes flicker, and for a second, she almost feels bad for being so hard on him. Almost. “Get out. Get out, Bellamy.” She growls, and he doesn’t move. She takes a deep breath through her nose, ready to yell. “Bellamy, get. Out. Now.” She uses the most emphasis on the word  _ now _ and wields the knife like she might use it on Bellamy. “You’ve done enough damage.” She gets in his face again, ready for him to try and argue, but Octavia picks that moment to stick her head up through the hatch, a gasp on her lips as she takes in the scene in front of her. Clarke backs off of Bellamy, ready to console Octavia, but Octavia isn’t having it. 

 

She marches straight up to Clarke, snatches the knife from her hand, and in one fluid motion, cuts the grounder’s right arm down. She moves to his feet, cutting the ties there just as effectively. Once the grounder is firmly on the ground, she turns to Bellamy and Clarke. 

 

“If either one of you ever touches him again, you’ll be the one tied up and tortured.” She spits, and leads the grounder toward the hatch, leading him with a careful arm on his bicep. Bellamy moves to stop them, but Clarke plants a firm hand on his chest and glares at him, hard, halting his movement. 

 

Once the grounder has followed Octavia safely down the ladder, Clarke moves to the hatch and pulls it open. “Miller!” She yells, and gets only a grunt in response. “Don’t let them leave camp. He needs help.” She slams the hatch closed without waiting for an answer and turns to Bellamy. “We need help too.” She says, pointedly, and begins gathering his tools of torture. “I won’t have you up here torturing grounders just because you think your sister can’t handle herself.” 

 

“That wasn’t the only reason, Princess.” Bellamy throws the knife in his hand on the table, and it clatters into the pile Clarke’s made. She lines it up with the other tools and begins wrapping them in the front of her shirt. 

 

“I don’t care. We aren’t trying to start a war, and you torturing random grounders is the exact opposite of how we keep peace.” She turns to him, carefully cradling her shirt. She sees his eyes flicker to the pouch she’s made, concern bouncing in his eyes for half of a second before he’s glaring at her again. “I understand why you did it,” She says softly, adjusting her arm so she won’t get hurt. “It was just wrong and stupid to go through with it.” She turns away and makes for the hatch. As she approaches it, she realizes that she won’t be able to open it or climb down with the tools wrapped in nothing but her shirt. She has no idea how Bellamy did it. She looks around the room for whatever he used to carry the tools up, but sees nothing. 

 

“Here,” Bellamy is opening the hatch for her, which is…. Unexpected. “I can take some of those, too.” He offers, motioning to the tools in her shirt gently. She frowns. 

 

“And have you hide them somewhere up here so you can make a decision like this without me again?” Clarke scoffs. “No, thank you.” She uses her elbows and shoulder to lower herself through the hatch. From there, maneuvering down the ladder is easy. When she reaches the bottom, she sees that Bellamy is following her. She ignores him and goes to put the tools away, but when she turns to find Octavia and the grounder, Bellamy is there behind her, following along like he’s lost. “Do you need something, Bellamy?” She knows she must sound exhausted but, well. It’s his fault, mostly. 

 

“You said without you.” He says quietly, as if he’s afraid she’s going to scold him again, which. She might. “As if we should- We should make decisions together.” He says, bolder now, standing to his full height. He looks a little ridiculous, as he’s still wearing the blanket-turned-toga that he walked into camp in. Clarke would laugh, if she wasn’t still so pissed at him. Regardless, he’s serious, and she nods. 

 

“I’ve been saying that since people starting collapsing, Bellamy. I consulted you when Raven fell.” She points out, and at his furrowed brow, she laughs. “You haven’t met Raven yet, have you?” She asks, and his frown deepens. “She brought a radio with her from the Ark- Monty should have people lining up to speak with their parents, for after we talk to the Chancellor.” Bellamy’s face steels over and she sighs. 

 

“I don’t think I should be there when you talk to the Chancellor.”

 

“You’re going to be there, or I’m going to hunt you down. For now though, go put some clothes on.” She shoves at his shoulder and he almost smiles at her. 

 

“Can’t stand knowing I’m not wearing anything under this, Princess?”

 

“More like I can’t stand you at all. Go.” 

 

Clarke finds herself with Charlotte, who, while hadn’t been crying, had been seriously distressed. No one could get it out of her why, so Clarke decides to let Bellamy try. She saw them a while ago together, and Charlotte seemed to like Bellamy. 

 

After Clarke sends Charlotte to find Bellamy, she runs into Finn outside his tent. “Hey,” She greets, and his face pales. “I’m not even going to ask about earlier, I assume you two have talked it out.” He nods. “Good. Hey, why were you apologizing earlier?” She asks as she remembers his frazzled state when he returned to camp. Now, he’s avoiding eye contact. 

 

“There’s something you should know- about the ‘sickness’. But you should be sitting down.” He leads her to the dropship with a hand on her back. She knows what it looks like, so she walks a few paces ahead of him, observing the delinquents (who were thankfully now all dressed) around them. When they reach the drop ship, he motions for her to sit on the cot that he laid in just over a day ago and begins talking. 

 

He tells her what he remembers of his dream-like state from the night before, after he’d disappeared. The blood, the moon, the chase. He tells her about the transformation, how he could feel every individual bone in his body breaking and reforming itself. He tells her about waking up, surrounded by bodies. 

 

Human bodies. 

 

Delinquent bodies. 

 

“It was the search team you sent out.” He says quietly, reaching for her hand. She pulls it away, her eyes stuck to the floor.  _ Roma. Mbege. Diggs. I sent them out. They’re dead because of me.  _ “Hey, no they aren’t. You had no way of knowing what was out there.” Clarke didn’t realize that she’d said anything out loud, but Finn’s response tells her she did. Finn reaches for her hand, takes it this time. 

 

“And what- What was out there, Finn? How did you survive but none of them did?” She wonders aloud, and she feels Finn shrug next to her. 

 

“I don’t know, Clarke. I do know one thing, though.” His hand comes up and brushes her hair from her face gently. “The whole time, I just wanted you to see what I was doing. I thought- I thought you’d like what you saw.” He gives a shy smile to her, and she furrows her brow. 

 

“Finn, I don’t think-”

 

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Bellamy leans against the drop ship's wall, glaring at Finn. Clarke pulls away from him and moves towards Bellamy. 

 

“No. Roma, Mbege, Diggs. They’re all dead. Finn woke up from his- thing last night, surrounded by their bodies.” She watches his face register what she’s said. “He doesn’t remember much.” Bellamy’s jaw works as he chews on the news she’s just given him. 

 

“I know someone who might.” Is all he says, and then they’re marching to Octavia’s tent, side by side. 


	3. Heavy Things, We See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading this chapter, please note that there's a lot of heavy emotional stuff. Lots of dealing with Wells' death happens. If that's too heavy for you, please proceed with caution.

Bellamy can feel the dread rising in his stomach as they approach Octavia’s tent.

 

There’s a good chance she’s gone. Run off with her grounder boyfriend and abandoned him with the delinquents.

 

The thought makes him sick.

 

Clarke walks ahead, and Bellamy follows. He knows better than to try and take the lead on this one.

 

“Octavia?” Clarke calls softly, just a warning before they enter. They find the grounder shirtless, with Octavia crouched in front of him, cloth in one hand and Monty’s moonshine in the other.

 

“What do you two want?” She asks as she turns around. She doesn’t move away from the grounder, and Bellamy tries not to glare too hard.

 

“Octavia, you lied to me. You made me trust you and then you ran away, leaving me with no choice but to send people after you. I had no idea where you were. Three of the people I sent after you are dead now.” Clarke opens, as if she’s been practicing this. Bellamy admires the way she keeps her voice level, but still firm. It clearly demonstrates that she isn’t messing around.

 

If only he could be so efficient in his reprimandings.

 

Octavia has opened her mouth to argue, but the grounder puts a hand on her shoulder and her mouth closes. Bellamy and Clarke share a look, but choose to say nothing.

 

“I don’t want to reprimand you, Octavia. That’s his job.” Clarke juts her thumb at Bellamy, who rolls his shoulders. He hopes it looks intimidating. “But now, we need answers.” Clarke takes a step closer to them.

 

“You really expect Lincoln to help us after Bellamy tortured him?” Octavia snarks, and Clarke sighs.

 

“No, honestly. I don’t. But we need him to.” Octavia bristles at the near-threat, but Clarke is quick to correct herself. “He won’t be touched again- or, tortured. I will personally make sure no harm comes to your boyfriend, Octavia.” It’s Bellamy’s turn to bristle as Octavia doesn’t reject the title that Clarke has given the grounder- Lincoln. “In fact,” Clarke continues, unaware of how tense Bellamy stands beside her. “I’ll help heal him. He needs stitches.” Clarke’s eyes glaze over Lincoln’s chest, appraising him, and Bellamy feels a new kind of hatred sweep through him towards the man on his sisters cot.

 

“We want an apology from both of you.” Octavia folds her arms over her chest and sets her jaw. Bellamy can’t help but think she must look like him right now, all proud eyes and hard lines.

 

“The girl tried to free me.” Lincoln says, the first words Bellamy’s ever heard him say. It’s in perfect english, too, which shouldn’t surprise Bellamy. But it does.

 

“Fine, then just from Bellamy.” Octavia glares at him, waiting for his response. When he only glares back, Clarke elbows him, and he sighs.

 

“Fine. Look- Lincoln. I didn’t mean to- alright, I meant to hurt you. I did. I found you wrapped around my baby sister, and you were- are- a part of the enemy’s ranks, as far as I know.” Bellamy pauses, notices the pointed look that he gets from Clarke, and continues. “I’m sorry I tortured you. I was trying to protect my people. If any more harm comes to you while you’re in our camp, you can do whatever you want to me- anything. It isn’t going to happen again.” He finally forces himself to lock eyes with the man sitting on his sister’s bed, who seems to approve.

 

“If I’d known she was kin to an Alpha, I would’ve introduced myself to you first.” Lincoln says, standing and crossing to Bellamy. He shakes Bellamy’s hand, then Clarke’s. “If you’ll have me, I’ll stay here and help as much as I can.” Bellamy and Clarke look at each other, clearly startled by the formal tone in Lincoln’s voice. Then, things get a little weirder.

 

Lincoln bows to them.

 

Bellamy’s jaw drops, and he can out of the corner of his eye that Clarke’s did as well. Octavia also looks surprised.

 

Clarke recovers first, and, not knowing what to do, she takes Lincoln’s hands and pulls him up.

 

“No need to bow.” She says, plastering on a polite smile and dropping Lincoln’s hands.

 

“Forgive me. It’s customary among my people to kneel when meeting a new Alpha.” Lincoln steps back, closer to Octavia. “Meeting two at once, I could expect to be beheaded for not kneeling to you both.”

 

“Oh, no.” Clarke says, too quickly. She’s flustered, Bellamy realizes, and tries to find a way to speak up.

 

“No beheadings here.” He adds, and Clarke’s head bobs into a fast nod. Bellamy almost smiles. _She’s cute._

 

“Well…. Now that that’s over,” Octavia steps in front of Lincoln again, who seems to accept his role at her back. “Did you say something about needing answers, Clarke?”

 

* * *

 

They find out a lot from Lincoln, that first day. He tells them about how people began turning, and how his people tend to deal with it. Apparently, it's very well accepted. 

 

Clarke is quiet for a lot of the meeting, just listening to Lincoln speak and to Bellamy ask questions. She frowns through any questions that may pertain to her. 

 

Clarke leaves the meeting at one point when she thinks she hears her name being called. Bellamy ducks out after her (he didn't hear anything. He suspects that she was just overwhelmed but didn't want to ask to get some air), only to find her standing with Finn. Bellamy can do nothing but fester at the sight of them. He stomps away, forgetting that he’s left Octavia alone with Lincoln in the dropship.

 

He finds Clarke later, slumped over by the fire, and sits with her. “Got sick of Spacewalker, Princess?” She snorts.

 

“I’ve been sick of him since he told me he possibly killed three of our people, and then tried to turn it into flirting with me. With his girlfriend about twenty feet away.” Clarke sighs, rolls her shoulders. There’s a tension there that Bellamy aches to fix, but holds himself back. “So,” She continues, unaware of the way he’s staring at her shoulders, trying to will away the pain there. “Werewolves.”

 

“Werewolves.” He repeats, quieter. Lincoln had never called it that, of course. But Clarke and Bellamy had shared looks across the table as Lincoln spoke, the same thought going through their minds. _Werewolves._

 

“About a third of the camp was sick with- was gone when….” She trails off, unsure of how to say it.

 

“About a third of the camp are werewolves.” He supplies, and she groans.

 

“Yeah. A third of the camp are werewolves.”

 

“About a third of the camp is potentially dangerous.” He follows, and she closes her eyes.

 

“Yeah, a third of the camp is potentially dangerous.”

 

“Including me.”

 

“Including you.” She hangs her head.

 

“So what now?” He asks, and she lets out a dry laugh.

 

“Ask everyone who was out what they remember? Try to figure out if it really was Finn who killed Roma, Mbege, and Diggs? Figure out why you guys wake up naked?” Clarke seems to slump over more at every suggestion. Bellamy just wants to take the burden off of her shoulders.

 

“Those aren’t bad ideas.”

 

“But they require a lot of time and energy that we don’t have.” She pulls on the corners of the jacket she’s wearing. “Lincoln says it only happens during a full moon, so, about once a month.”

 

“So we have about a month to figure out how to deal with it.” He blows air out through his nose. “That’s enough time for you to take a nap, Princess.”

 

“Hardly.” But she stands. “I’ll sleep after we’ve talked to the Ark. Deal?”

 

Somehow, he can’t say no to that deal. He just wants her to be rested and able. _What?_ He thinks at himself. He doesn’t understand why he feels this way now, when just earlier he was ready to tear her throat out for questioning how he dealt with Lincoln. She had been right, of course.

 

 _It’s just because we’re in this together, now._ He tells himself as he follows her to the comms tent. _If she isn’t healthy, she can’t lead._

 

She sits him down in front of the radio. They don’t have a screen set up yet, so it’s just audio. Raven- the gorgeous Latina who fell from the sky- hands him one set of headphones, and hands another to Clarke. “Just ask for Jaha.”

 

Bellamy’s blood runs cold and he grabs Clarke’s hand.

 

“Jaha?” He asks her, and she looks puzzled too.

 

“I thought he was dead, Raven.” Clarke asks, and doesn’t hear the second of static that sounds in the headphones.

 

“I’m very much alive, Clarke.”

 

“Chancellor Jaha,” Clarke recovers quickly, shooting Bellamy a look and squeezing his hand. “We’d all heard that you’d been shot. Glad to hear that you’re alright.”

 

“I wouldn’t quite call it alright, but thank you, Clarke. Tell me, where’s Wells? Is he with you?” The Chancellor sounds hopeful, but Clarke’s face has fallen. He takes her hand in both of his and hopes that it’s helpful.

 

“No, Chancellor. I’m- I’m so sorry.” Her voice breaks, and Bellamy squeezes her hand. “Wells- Wells was killed.” There’s silence on the other end of the radio. “We’re still trying to figure out who it was but- there’s been a bit of a situation, one that requires incredible attention.”

 

“I-I see.” Is all the Chancellor says. Clarke takes a shaky breath.

 

“I’m sure you’ll need some time to think about this, Chancellor.” Clarke says, and her voice is almost steady. “There’s more to discuss, of course, but for now, I’d like to get back to my people, and I’m sure you wouldn’t mind a few minutes of quiet.” To the silence, she quietly responds. “I’m sorry for your loss, Thelonious. Wells was an incredible person.”

 

“Thank you, Clarke. Should I patch you in to your mother?” The Chancellor asks, and his voice is shaky, quiet. Like he’s away from the radio.

 

“No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you, Chancellor. We hope to speak again soon.” She removes her headphones before she can hear the stuttered _We?_ That sounds through the radio. Bellamy ignores the sound and does as Clarke has done.

 

“I didn’t even have to be here.” Bellamy tries to tease, but Clarke has her face turned from him and she doesn’t laugh, snort, or say anything. Bellamy rounds her, coming to face her, and she’s staring at the ground.

 

“I haven’t had time to- Oh, god, Bellamy.” Her eyes and voice are watery as she tries to articulate her thoughts. Bellamy is frozen to the spot, helpless. “He was barely in the ground before people starting dropping- I haven’t even said goodbye.” She wipes at her eyes, suddenly furious. “I just- Nevermind. I have to go.” She’s gone before he can say anything.

 

When he steps out of the tent, he can barely see five feet in front of him, nevermind where Clarke went. They must not have noticed the storm that tears apart the camp now. Raven scrambles out of the tent behind him, radio in her arms. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Shooter?” Bellamy cringes at the nickname. It’s out in the open now. Anyone who wants to stop listening to him has a real reason now.

 

He heads for the dropship, seeing people run in in clusters as he goes. He does a swift headcount of the people inside, finds that Clarke is missing. He spots Octavia in a corner with Lincoln and Monty, who seems to be taking notes of some kind. He trusts Monty to take care of Octavia.

 

Bellamy doesn’t know where to begin looking for Clarke. He tries her tent, which looks thoroughly unslept in. She isn’t trying to rally delinquents into the dropship, and she isn’t in the dropship. There’s only one other place she could be.

 

Bellamy curses himself for not thinking of it sooner.

 

Of course she sits outside the gate, amid their dead friends who’ve been buried. Of course she stares at the grave in front of her. Of course she’s still crying.

 

Of course she pulls a knife on him as he approaches.

 

He throws his hands up in surrender, and the knife falls from her hand. “You shouldn’t be out here alone, Princess.” He shouts, trying to keep his voice above the sound of trees thrashing in the wind. He hears one crack somewhere in the distance. “What if I was a grounder?” He asks, trying to convince her to come inside.

 

“Then I’d tie you to a wall and torture you.” She yells back, picking the knife up off the ground and sliding it into her belt. “That seems to be standard procedure here.”

 

“I thought we were over that? Come on, Princess, time to get you inside the castle.” He motions for her to follow him, and thankfully, she does. He can see her angrily wiping at her face as she walks beside him, too proud to let their people see her weakness.

 

She orders the dropships door closed as soon as they’re inside. “See, Princess?” He smirks at her and motions to the door as it closes. “Without you, who would’ve given the order to close the door?”

 

“You would have.” She responds immediately. “You would’ve had to.” Clarke turns away from him and moves through the crowd to where Monty and Lincoln are talking. Bellamy watches her go, then orders Miller to move half of the kids to the second floor. They can’t all be packed into one floor and expect everything to be fine. As Miller starts moving people, Bellamy joins Clarke at the table where Lincoln and Monty are. Octavia seems to have backed off of Lincoln, finally.

 

They seem to be talking plant-life, but Bellamy knows there will be more time for that later. “So we know how the wolf thing started.” He interrupts, and Monty only looks up at him for a second before nodding, allowing the subject change. “We need to know the details. How does it work. What does it mean for the camp.”

 

“What does our role as Alpha entail?” Clarke adds, and Bellamy nods.

 

“As I’ve said, you hold the highest level of authority in your pack.” Lincoln starts, glancing around the room. “I’ll admit, it’s odd to have two Alphas in the same pack, but I suppose it’s a special circumstance regardless.” He smirks at Clarke, who only frowns. “In classical wolf hierarchy, there’s an Alpha male and an Alpha female. In the case of what you call werewolves, there is only an Alpha. It isn’t defined by sex.” He pauses, makes sure this information settles with Clarke and Bellamy. Monty sits back, less enthused but still attentive. “You have much control over the privileges that come with being Alpha. Naturally, you would be the first to eat, to give orders, to sleep. You would choose where the pack goes, and you’d get the best treatment among other wolves.” Lincoln rolls his shoulders carefully, his wounds still fresh. Bellamy tries not to grimace.

 

“I don’t understand how I’m an Alpha if I’m not affected by the transformation.” Clarke shuffles on her feet as if uncomfortable. Bellamy imagines she must be- he can’t imagine not knowing how he became the Alpha. When he thinks the word  _Alpha_ , it just seems to fit.

 

“It’s not too different from how humans become the ‘Alpha’ of their ‘pack’.” Monty joins, looking to Lincoln for confirmation. “I read about it. Essentially, your people choose you, or you show them that you’re fit for it through strength or wit.” He smiles. “Which both of you have definitely done.”

 

“Your people regard you as an Alpha, you’re an Alpha.” Lincoln confirms. “And now that you’ve been established as an Alpha among your own pack, wolves of other packs will recognize you as someone worth respecting. It’s how I was able to recognize you.” Lincoln adds. Clarke keeps her face passive, but nods.

 

“How does a pack normally function on the ground? Not everyone can be affected by it, right?” Clarke asks Lincoln, who shakes his head.

 

“There are very few packs that remain all wolf. Most have humans among them, but they are usually regarded as nothing other than Omega’s.” Lincoln watches the two leaders share a glance, and he allows a small smile. “Since one of your pack’s Alpha’s is human, I don’t think that’s how your wolves see things.” Bellamy relaxes. He isn’t about to let his sister or Clarke be treated badly just because they’re human. “Your Beta is also human, so that will help.” Monty perks up, but slouches again when Lincoln’s eyes regard Miller. Bellamy isn’t surprised that Miller is their Beta- he’s loyal, and helpful, and follows orders well, without taking them too seriously. He has a mind of his own, but listens to Clarke and Bellamy. “Your pack is very unique, Bellamy, Clarke. I’ve never heard of a singular pack with two Alpha’s, or one with a human Beta.” He frowns at the table. “It will make you a target of investigation, if my people find out.”

 

“So we have to hide it.” Bellamy is already thinking of how to do it- they’ll have to be incredibly careful, incredibly secretive.

 

“I’m not sure we can hide it completely. Not after the howling show you all put on last night.” Clarke pulls him from his preemptive plans with a frown. “If your people investigate, what will that mean for us?” Lincoln’s jaw clenches and unclenches. Bellamy doesn’t like the sight of it.

 

“It most likely means that they’ll fear you. You won’t be in danger unless another pack decides you’re too dangerous.” Lincoln furrows his brow. “There’s talk of a war. You landed in another pack’s territory. They don’t know your power yet. They plan to attack soon.”

 

“We aren’t letting that happen.” Clarke places her hands firmly on the table they all stand around. “We can’t have any more casualties.” She says it to the group, but Bellamy hears it as if it’s only for him. “What can we do?”

 

“My pack’s leader, Anya, tends to try and see reason. I could arrange a meeting for you.”

 

“Are you sure?” Bellamy inquires, and Lincoln steps back. Bellamy can feel the way being questioned by an Alpha is affecting Lincoln.

 

“I am. I cannot guarantee that she’ll see it your way, but I will arrange the meeting.” Lincoln stands as tall as he can with his injuries, as if about to salute. Bellamy silently prays that he won’t. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll leave tonight for my village.” Bellamy and Clarke share a look, and Bellamy nods.

 

“When can we expect you back?” Clarke shakes Lincoln’s hand first.

 

“I’ll send Octavia with news of the time and place.” Lincoln answers easily, as if it had been his plan all along.

 

“Woah, who said anything about Octavia going? She stays here.” Bellamy tries and fails to ignore the look that Clarke gives him, pleading and scolding all at once.

 

“Forgive me, I’d assumed that she’d want to join me.”

 

“Like hell. My sister doesn’t go anywhere until I’ve approved it, got it?” Bellamy gives the statement like an order, and it seems to work. Lincoln clenches his jaw and nods. “Great. After the storm passes, you can take either Jasper or Monty with you to your village.”

 

“Not Jasper. He’s still recovering from his run-in from before.” Clarke is the only one to oppose Bellamy. “Monty is too valuable here, with us.” She chews the end of her nail, thinking. “We should send Finn.”

 

“Trust him more than you trust me, Princess?” The words are out before he can stop them, and Clarke sneers at him.

 

“If it were up to me, I’d send Octavia.” She responds, and he’s about to argue when she puts her hand up. “Take the compromise, Bellamy. Recognize it as what it is.”

 

Bellamy wants to yell at Clarke to leave Octavia alone, but he remembers how much good that’s done in the past, and thinks better of it. Instead, he just nods. There’s an anger inside his mind that he doesn’t understand, but when Clarke says she’s leaving to find Finn, it flares up.

 

“I hope I didn’t overstep, Bellamy. Your sister has come to mean very much to me recently.” Lincoln is closer to Bellamy than he realized, and Bellamy takes a step back.

 

“Just don’t assume you can take her away from me and we’ll be fine.” He grunts. Lincoln nods again and disappears, presumably to find Octavia. Bellamy is left with Monty, who shakes his head.

 

“Things are about to change pretty drastically, Chief.” Monty stands and moves away from Bellamy, who’s still trying to recall where someone has called him ‘Chief’ before.

 

* * *

 

Monty wasn’t wrong.

 

After Lincoln and Finn leave, Clarke orders everyone to start re-assembling camp, and Bellamy follows her around until she’s alone, and then asks his question.

 

“While Finn is gone, should we try to piece together everything that everyone remembers from last night?” She pauses just long enough to think about it, then she’s moving again, helping Fox repitch her tent without having to be asked.

 

“It’s a good idea. We can figure out how dangerous everyone can be.” As the tent falls into place, Clarke smiles at Fox and moves away, Bellamy right behind her. “For tonight let’s just get camp put back together. We can talk to them tomorrow.” She seems to be finished, moving on to help another delinquent shake the water out of his tarp. Bellamy doesn’t miss the way the boy’s eyes linger on Clarke after she’s turned away. He barely resists growling at him. “We should exclude the kids who were back at camp, I don’t want them to be afraid of their peers.” She motions for him to help Jasper move a branch off of his and Monty’s tent.

 

“Something else,” He puts a careful hand on her arm once the branch has been moved and leads her a few paces away from prying ears. She looks up at him and he can tell that she’s not ready to hear what he’s about to ask. He has to do it anyway. “Do you want me to look into who killed Wells?”

 

Clarke stiffens and her face closes off. She takes a step away from him and drops the eye contact that she’s been maintaining until now. There’s a moment where Bellamy’s afraid she’ll completely shut down, but she takes a deep breath and pulls her chin up so that she’s looking at his face.

 

“How?” Is all she says, and Bellamy frowns.

 

“I figure I can ask around. Someone probably saw something.”

 

“I’m not sure about that. They would’ve said something by now.” She turns away from him, making to find more people to help. Bellamy catches her arm.

 

“I won’t fight with you about it, Princess. Say the word, and we’ll figure it out.” Her eyes turn soft at his promise, and she nods slowly.

 

“I’ll let you know.”

 

She doesn’t need to let him know.

 

Bellamy has barely settled into his tent (which he fixed alone. He’d taken after Clarke and helped as many people as he could with fixing tents and re-assembling cots before allowing himself the time to fix his own. Most of the delinquents had fallen asleep by the time he made it to his tent. Luckily, the damage was minimal.) when there are shouts from the wall. He’s outside in an instant, and sees Clarke already halfway across camp to investigate the yelling. He jogs to catch up with her, and they walk to the wall together, in anxious silence.

 

They find Murphy with his hand locked around Charlotte’s arm, refusing to let her run away. Charlotte screams at him to let her go, and hits him hard enough that he does. Clarke takes off after Charlotte, who was too hysterical to tell them why she was running. Bellamy shoots a look to Miller, who’s only just arrived, and runs after Clarke and Charlotte.

 

He finds them within seconds, knowing instinctively where Clarke is. She’s wrestling Charlotte to the ground, but somehow, even Charlotte overpowers Clarke, and soon she’s running. Bellamy pauses to help Clarke up, but then they’re running too.

 

Bellamy catches up to Charlotte first, on the edge of a cliff. Charlotte has a knife in her hands and she wields it like a sword when she spins on Bellamy, tears in her eyes and panic not far behind.

 

“Charlotte, please,” He holds his hands up in what he hopes is placating. “You don’t have to do this.” A sob shakes her whole body and she shakes her head.

 

“I do, Bellamy, I do.” Bellamy can barely understand what she’s saying through her tears.

 

“I know you’re scared. We all are. This is _not_ the answer, Charlotte.” He takes a step toward her and she takes a step closer to the edge of the cliff. He tries to back up, to get her to follow him away from the edge, but she stays where she is. “Remember what I told you? You can slay your demons, Charlotte. This isn’t how you do that.” He swallows as he hears Clarke approaching. He puts a hand up behind him to stop her from coming any nearer.

 

“I did what you said, Bellamy, I did! I killed him, I slayed him. But the nightmares keep coming.” She somehow sobs even harder. “And now you’re going to kill me too.” She wails into the night, and Bellamy listens to it echo into the chasm behind Charlotte.

 

“What do you mean, Charlotte? Why would we kill you?” Bellamy keeps his voice low and steady as he questions the girl. She trembles in his gaze and her heel moves closer to the edge.

 

“I killed Jaha. I killed him, and now you want to find out who did it. I heard you telling Clarke!” She loses her grip on the knife and it falls to the ground. Bellamy doesn’t move for it- he can’t see Charlotte as a threat while she’s standing on the edge of a cliff.

 

“You killed Wells?” Clarke’s voice comes from his side, and when he looks at her, her eyebrows are furrowed and she’s staring at Charlotte like she’s never seen her before. Charlotte takes a shaky breath and nods.

 

“Charlotte, that is not what I meant when I said that to you.” Bellamy tries to swallow around the knot in his throat.

 

“Does it matter? I did it, and now you’ll kill me too if I don’t go.” For the first time, Bellamy notices the bag on Charlotte’s back. She shifts it and leans for her knife again, never taking her eyes off of Bellamy. “Just let me go.” She whimpers, and Bellamy shakes his head.

 

“Come back to camp with us, Charlotte.” Bellamy extends his hand to her, plans to pull her away from the edge as soon as she takes it. But Charlotte just chokes on another sob.

 

“I can’t. I won’t.” She takes another step toward the cliff. “If you leave now, I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again.” Her eyes dart to the woods on the other side of Bellamy. Clarke is silent. He looks to her for any hint of help, but she stares blankly at Charlotte. Bellamy takes a deep breath and decides.

 

“Okay.” He breathes, and Clarke’s head snaps toward him. He can’t take it back, though, so he plows on. “Okay. We’ll leave. You can leave too.” He backs up, dropping his hands and looking to Clarke, who has returned to her carefully blank stare, this time over his shoulder. “We’ll leave,” He repeats, and Clarke seems to snap out of it.

 

Clarke follows him into the woods, silently. They hear Charlotte running away from them, not trying to be quiet, and neither of them says anything.

 

Bellamy can see Miller waiting for them atop the wall before Clarke speaks again. “I guess that answers that question.” Clarke stops walking, and Bellamy turns to her. She’s staring at the ground, taking deep, measured breaths.

 

“I guess so.”

 

“It’s been a week.” Clarke says, finally pulling her eyes up to meet his. They’re glassy, like she’s trying to focus but can’t. “She sat on that for a week, and no one knew.” Her lip trembles, and Bellamy can’t resist reaching for her. He touches her shoulder, and when she steps toward him he wraps it around her back. It’s an uncomfortable side hug, but he hopes that it offers her the comfort that she needs to make it back to camp. He can feel the tension there that he noticed earlier, knows it must be worse now than it was then. 

 

“Let’s go, Princess.” He nudges her, and they walk again, now with her leaning into his side and his hand on her shoulder blade.

 

No one says anything as they enter camp. Miller seems to recognize the sight of them pressed together as something not to mention, and he only calls for the gate to open. Once they’re inside, Bellamy drops his hand from her back and she turns to him. He notices belatedly that she’s shaking and wants to take her hands in his.

 

He thinks better of it.

 

“Now what?” Clarke asks. Bellamy has never heard her sound so unsure in the time that he’s known her.

 

“Go to bed, Clarke.”

 

“I’m pretty sure I won’t sleep for a week after that.” She tries to tease, but it falls flat.

 

“You will.” He says, and he hopes his voice sounds more sure to her ears than to his.

 

* * *

 

When he goes looking for her late into the next morning, he finds her curled into Monty and Octavia on the floor of her tent, fast asleep, peaceful.


	4. Leaps and Bounds for Us

Finn comes back the afternoon after he and Lincoln had left, giving Clarke and Bellamy time to round up all the werewolves in camp and interrogate them. “The only person we haven’t asked about it is Charlotte.” Bellamy mumbles to himself, but Clarke hears him and tries not to grimace.

 

The werewolves aren’t helpful.

 

They learn nothing that they didn’t already know, and the line of questioning only starts rumors that have the younger kids running for Clarke and Bellamy in fear. Bellamy orders the rumors be stopped, but even an Alpha can only do so much to stop a rumor.

 

Finn enters camp loudly, panting and reaching for water as soon as he’s inside the gate. He explains that he ran all the way back from Lincoln’s village, TonDC. “Six days at the bridge that crosses the river.” He breathes when Clarke approaches him. She gives him a quizzical look and passes him another cup of water.

 

“We have six days to prepare and you ran all the way back here? Finn, you could have walked.” Clarke sits next to him on the log that he’s claimed. He nods.

 

“I wanted to get back and tell you. Was that wrong?” Finn lets some weight fall on the word _you_ and Clarke clears her throat.

 

“No, I guess it wasn’t. Just- walk, next time. Or jog, jogging’s good.” Finn only nods at her enthusiastically and grins. When it’s clear that he isn’t going to give her any more response than that, she leaves him on the log.

 

“Spacewalker’s mission a success?” Bellamy asks from his perch at the top of the drop ship’s ramp. Clarke nods curtly.

 

“We have six days.” He follows her without needing a cue. “In the meantime, you and I have some business to take care of. We need to talk to Jaha again and get you pardoned.” Clarke watches him tense. She’d predicted he would. “I made you a promise, Bellamy. They won’t touch you.” She assures him, and although he continues to follow her through camp, he’s still tense. Clarke can feel it without even looking.

 

“That can wait, aren’t there kids who need to talk to their parents?” Bellamy tries to shove the obstacle away, but this too, was something Clarke predicted he would do.

 

“Maybe. But many of them already have, and getting their Alpha pardoned for trying to protect his sister isn’t something anyone really wants to wait around on.” Clarke matches his frown but quickly grins. “I promise you’ll get through it, Bellamy. They have to pardon you.”

 

“I’m not worried, Princess.”

 

“Really? Coulda fooled me.”

 

When they ask Raven to schedule a meeting with the Chancellor, she tells them they’ll have to wait. “There are a lot of kids still in line to see their parents, so you can either wait or tell them all they’ll have to.” Clarke nods and tells her they’ll wait until the line dies down, and Bellamy clearly tries not to tell her _I told you so,_ but the look on his face betrays his thoughts, so she rolls her eyes at him and walks away.

 

Clarke busies herself with Monty, talking over the herbs that Lincoln taught him in the brief time they’d had to talk (She makes a note to ask Lincoln for drawings of each plant the next time she sees him- Monty may be smart and talented, just not with his use of adjectives. He mostly describes the color that each plant is - “Green, but like, darker than the green you’re probably thinking of.”- and relates the shapes of the leaves to other objects - “It’s shaped like, you know those fancy door knobs that you could sometimes see in the magazines they had preserved on the Ark? Like that.”.) and trying to relate them to what she already knows. When she asks Monty if he’s talked to his parents yet, he shakes his head, still smiling, if a bit sadly. “I wanted to give you a chance to talk to your mom before I talked to mine.” Clarke doesn’t try to correct him, just thanks him and asks about plants that can ease headaches.

 

She sees Bellamy only in passing. She can hear him organizing a group to go hunting (Turns out that once werewolves start turning, their need for food skyrockets.) and giving commands. He’s clearly taken what Lincoln said about Miller being the Beta of their pack to heart, even goes as far as to put Miller in charge of teaching a group how to track. Clarke makes a mental note to try and follow his lead and put more trust into Miller.

 

Clarke also watches Bellamy shut Finn down when he tries to tell him he can help Miller teach the group how to track. Clarke snickers, but tells herself she’ll remind Bellamy not to be so blatant in his hating Finn.

 

Hours later, as night comes in, Clarke teaches Octavia how to give someone stitches, using a sliced chunk of padding from the seat in the drop ship as practice. Octavia keeps scoffing that _I know how to sew, Clarke_ but her stitches come out sloppy and Clarke can tell it’s frustrating Octavia.

 

“My mom was literally a seamstress. I don’t get why I’m so bad at this.” Octavia seethes, throwing the padding to the ground even as she carefully grips the sewing needle. Clarke just sighs.

 

“It’s a practiced thing, Octavia. You’ll get it, but you need to slow down- don’t rush through something just because you think it should come naturally.” Clarke passes the padding back to Octavia, who closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in and out, then tries again. “You’ve got it.” Clarke assures her, watching over Octavia’s shoulder.

 

“How’re you ladies?” Octavia loses concentration and and fumbles with the needle, piercing her skin and swearing as Bellamy approaches them, smiling. When Octavia sees that it’s just Bellamy, she huffs.

 

“You screwed it up, Bell.” She shakes her head in lieu of acknowledging his good mood, which Clarke is still trying to wrap her head around. When Bellamy only gives Octavia a questioning look, she presents him with the padding and crosses her arms. Bellamy frowns at the padding and tilts his head.

 

“What is this supposed to be doing?” He asks, and Clarke shakes herself out of her confusion.

 

“I was trying to teach Octavia how to do stitches for just in case I can’t be here when someone gets hurt.” She explains, and Bellamy scoffs.

 

“Come on, O. You can do better than this. Hell, I could do better than this.”

 

“Well, sorry, Bellamy. You have a lot more practice than I do.” Clarke perks up and Octavia sits back, watching Bellamy inspect the stitches that she put into the padding.

 

“He does?” Clarke asks, and the siblings share a quick look before they both turn to her.

 

“Yeah, he helped our mom with work sometimes. He’s pretty good at it.” Octavia ignores Bellamy as he tries to interrupt her with a muttered _Octavia_.

 

“Have you ever done stitches on a person?” Clarke asks, standing so she can take the padding back from Bellamy and look at him without craning her neck. He shakes his head as Octavia joins them, standing.

 

“I think I’m fine with sticking to cloth, Princess.”

 

“What, are you squeamish or something?” She questions, and though he doesn’t answer, the tips of his ears turn red. Octavia laughs quietly.

 

“No.”

 

“Then why not learn to do stitches on people?” Clarke pushes, and Bellamy shrugs.

 

“Octavia just told you, I’m already pretty good at it.”

 

“Doing stitches on a person is a little different from sewing up someone’s clothes.” Clarke sits back down and pats the ground to her side. “Here, sit.” Bellamy hesitates for a second, but sits. Octavia sits facing Clarke, and they form a neat triangle with their legs in the dirt in front of one of the fires. Clarke passes the padding to Octavia and motions for her to start sewing. “Since you love telling people how wrong they are all the time, tell me what Octavia is doing wrong.” She leans back, trying to let more light into their circle so that Bellamy can see. He sighs at her but leans over to watch Octavia closer. Octavia gives Clarke a look that clearly says _I’m gonna fuck with him_ before she starts, and Clarke barely holds back a snort as Bellamy immediately starts fussing at her.

 

“Octavia, you’re literally holding the needle upside down. What are you doing? You know better, come on.”

 

 _This is nice_ , Clarke thinks. _Too bad it won’t last long._

 

* * *

 

After another night wrapped up in Octavia Blake (This time it was Octavia who sought out Clarke. Apparently she thought Lincoln would be coming back with Finn, and when he didn’t, she was crestfallen. Clarke welcomes the girl who’s becoming her fast friend into her cot easily and they spend the early hours of the night talking about life on the Ark. Clarke has a feeling that she would never learn half of the things Octavia tells her if she were to ask Bellamy about his life in space.), Clarke wakes up to the first frost of the season. She shrugs on a jacket and makes sure Octavia has one too before they make their way out of Clarke's tent. It’s only seconds before Clarke alone is called into the comms tent by Raven. She looks for Bellamy before agreeing to come, but assumes he’s still asleep when she can’t find him. She tells Octavia to find him and let him know where she is (Octavia rolls her eyes.) and follows Raven.

 

Clarke resolves to believing in crossed fingers when she enters the tent to see Thelonious’ face on the newly attached screen, and not her mother. She holds her breath when she realizes that it’s the whole council that she’s meeting with, but again, her mother's face isn’t present.

 

They ask for a body count, which Clarke delivers grimly. They thank her for ‘helping’ take care of the kids (Raven, who’s listening in, snorts quietly) and Clarke tells them she’s not working alone, but Jaha brushes past her response, passing the mic to Kane, who gives Clarke information on a military bunker that isn’t too far from their camp. Diana Sydney speaks against Kane, insisting that the kids should stay put. Jaha rebukes Diana’s argument and sends everyone from the room. Clarke assumes that he’ll want to ask about Wells and steels herself in preparation, but he only tries to convince her to talk to Abby. Clarke refuses and passes her headphones to Raven, hurrying to exit the tent.

 

Of course, in her haste, she runs straight into Bellamy’s chest.

 

“Ah,” She steps back as soon as she runs into him. His hands have flown to her shoulders, steadying her.

 

“Hey, Princess. Octavia said you needed me?” He looks into the tent behind her and swallows thickly. “Jaha?”

 

“Jaha.” Clarke confirms. “I don’t think Raven has said anything about you yet. I tried to bring it up, but you know Thelonious.” His face remains carefully blank and Clarke grimaces. “Maybe not personally, but-”

 

“Let me guess, he breezed right past it?” Bellamy interrupts, and Clarke nods. Bellamy shakes his head and sighs. “There’ll be more chances before the Ark comes down. I’m not worried.”

 

Clarke almost tells him that he doesn’t have to lie to her, but thinks better of it. Like he said, there’s time. “Kane told me that there’s a bunker nearby that might have supplies. Within a day’s walk.”

 

“Supplies?”

 

“Yeah, stuff that’s going to help us survive when this frost turns into snow.”

 

“Are you planning on going alone?”

 

“I was going to ask either Monty or Miller to come with me.”

 

“Leave Miller here with Monty. I’ll come with you.”

 

“Is it smart to have both of us gone at once?” Clarke is almost startled by Bellamy’s offer to join her. She thought that he of all people would want to stay close to camp, close to his sister.

 

“Between the two of them, I’m sure everything will be fine. They won’t miss us for one day. I’ll grab my stuff, meet you in ten.” He walks away before Clarke can argue any more, even if she thinks he might be right.

 

They have peace literally on its way, thanks to Lincoln. It’s just a waiting game now, Clarke knows. The local grounders aren’t likely to attack while they’re preparing for peace talks, and even if they do, Miller is smart enough to do what he thinks Clarke and Bellamy would do in their absence. Monty knows enough about local herbs to help heal people, and after last night’s excursion with the padding and needle, Octavia can stitch people up well enough. They have all their bases covered. Clarke still thinks it’s strange that Bellamy would agree- no, _offer_ to go on a day trip with her, given how their first few days on the ground had been. She’d _hated_ him, and she was sure he’d hated her too- or at least, he’d hated where she came from. Even if they were friendly now, she knows he still doesn’t like her any more than he likes the other people at camp, and she knows he doesn’t trust her enough either. _Maybe,_ she thinks, _he thinks today is an olive branch._ If he does, she won’t complain.

 

They go together to tell Monty and Miller (who they find together in Miller’s tent, “Going over who all is out hunting, and uh, helping Miller get ready to teach the tracking group. Maybe he’ll find some of those herbs Lincoln was talking about.”) that they’ll be leaving for the day, but should be back to camp by tomorrow morning. Monty hugs Clarke (She misses the way that Miller waggles his eyebrows at Bellamy) and they leave camp just as they hear Raven call Dax in to see his mom.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think vampires are a thing, too?” Bellamy asks about two hours into their trip. Clarke frowns.

 

“What, those blood sucking monsters that can’t be in the sun?” Clarke laughs a bit.

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy seems to be genuinely looking for an answer, but Clarke doesn’t have one. “Isn’t that sort of a thing? That wherever werewolves are, vampires show up too?”

 

“I don’t know.” Clarke bites her lip. “I can’t imagine not being able to be in the sun.”

 

“Did we grow up on the same space station?”

 

“Not really, but I meant now that I’ve actually felt it- sunlight. It’s too nice to even think about abandoning ever again.” She raises her face to the light that filters through the trees, sighing.

 

“I know what you mean.” Bellamy says quietly, and Clarke almost smiles.

 

They walk in relative silence for a bit and Bellamy falls a few steps behind. He always seems to do that, even if he is an Alpha. Bellamy is the human embodiment of the phrase “I have your back”. Clarke thinks that he should be at the front of all conversations, helping her lead their people, given his status, but he’s always right behind her, a support beam for when her structure seems close to giving in. She’s been trying to not need it, trying to keep her walls self- maintained, but he always steps in just as the resolve that she’s built up starts to crumble. There’s something there, she can tell. Behind the building that she’s made of herself, inside it. Bellamy seems to recognize, somehow, that it’s something she isn’t ready for yet. He helps her keep it away until she is ready. It’s certainly a new feeling for Clarke, having someone to help her without knowing exactly how much they do. Wells had helped, but he’d always been aware of what he was doing. He knew exactly how to help her, when she needed him, and where to find her. Bellamy just sort of stumbles into it with an ease that seems practiced even though it can’t be.

 

They’ve only known each other for fifteen days, and been at each other’s throats for more than half of that. Clarke isn’t even sure that she’d call him a friend at this point, but he’s certainly not a stranger, nor is he an enemy.

 

“It should be right around here,” Clarke stirs herself from her thoughts as they approach the ruins left from the bombs. There’s a lot of stone, and a lot of water. Clarke shudders at the thought of being within the buildings that the ruins were made of. Bellamy stands next to her, equally solemn as they look out over the valley.

 

“Let’s get looking.” Bellamy is the one to break the silence, nudging her shoulder with his and crunching down the hill before them. “Stay within shouting distance.” He calls over his shoulder. Clarke nods, almost to herself, before following him down the hill.

 

It takes nearly half an hour, but they find a door that leads into the ground. Bellamy uses his axe to get the door open, and they go inside, Clarke reminding Bellamy to watch his step. They come to a second flight of steps, all the more rickety, and Bellamy surprises Clarke by helping her down them, going two steps ahead of her and holding a hand out in front of her, just in case. Clarke pauses to grimace at a skeleton, and Bellamy frowns. “Hell of a place to die.”

 

They move further into the bunker, opening boxes and crates as they go. Clarke finds blankets, but she feels like she’s more excited than Bellamy is about it. “The colder it gets, the more we’ll need these.” She reminds him, and he grunts.

 

“Blankets will only do so much, Princess.” Bellamy responds, moving further into the bunker as Clarke closes the crate with the blankets. “What about food, or long range weapons- for hunting, or if one of the pack goes crazy the next time they turn?” He pauses, takes a deep breath. He’s too far for Clarke to see him, but she hears him fine. She starts to follow him deeper into the ground, trying to catch up. “I don’t want to have to leave you or Octavia defenseless against _werewolves_. We know what Finn did to Mbege, Roma, and Diggs. Who’s to say the rest of us can’t be capable of that?” He finishes quietly, but Clarke is close enough now to hear him still. He’s bent over a barrel that seems to be filled with oil, peering into it like he can somehow see to the bottom.

 

“Bellamy,” Clarke moves closer to him still, joining him at the barrel. “You won’t hurt any of us- not intentionally. Even if you are a werewolf, you care too much about people to hurt anyone like that.”

 

“Are you forgetting the part where I shot the chancellor? That was pretty intentional.” He steps away from her and the barrel, making to move further into the bunker. Clarke is about to respond when he spins to her, crushing a hand against her mouth. He very quietly _shhh_ ’s her and removes his hand. His eyes go to the ceiling, and Clarke follows his gaze, but doesn’t hear or see anything strange. “Someone’s here.” Bellamy whispers as he grabs Clarke’s arm and pulls her against the wall.

 

“It’s probably grounders, Bellamy, they won’t attack us while we’re preparing for peace talks.” She’s skeptical, but she whispers just as quietly as he does.

 

“Just,” Bellamy sighs then shushes her again. She rolls her eyes but does as he’s said.

 

They’re silent for about five minutes when she hears the footsteps coming their way. As soon as she does, her eyes flick to Bellamy’s, and he sets his jaw, nods. She looks for something- anything- that they could use to fight with. Despite her own argument, she isn’t sure she trusts the grounders enough to believe they wouldn’t attack Bellamy and her while they’re alone. As the steps come closer, she starts to panic. They only have their knives with them, they hadn’t thought to bring anything more since they’re supposed to be approaching peace with the grounders. Her eyes meet Bellamy’s eyes once again, and his grip on her wrist tightens briefly. She peaks her head out from against the wall to look back the way they came, and the figure that she sees approaching them only frightens her for a moment before she realizes who it is.

 

“Dax?” She steps out from their hiding place, ignoring the way Bellamy’s grip tightens again as she opens her mouth. Dax pauses, only a few strides from her now. She can tell from the lack of warmth at her back that Bellamy is still hidden.

 

“Where’s Bellamy?” Dax asks, squinting at her in the low light of the bunker. Clarke frowns, possibilites running through her head.

 

“Why? Did something happen?” She takes a step toward Dax, who subtly moves away from her.

 

“No,” He says slowly, seeming to squint at her harder. “You should go outside. It isn’t safe to be down here alone.” He smirks, shuffling his feet- usually, Clarke would identify the movement as anxious, but the man before her is nothing if not confident, cocky, even. “I’ll wrap up anything you were looking for and meet you up there in ten.” He steps to the side as if making room to allow her through, but she doesn’t move. There’s a soft sound behind her, and she risks a glance over her shoulder to see the corner of Bellamy’s jacket sticking out from behind the corner he’s burrowed into. When she turns back around, Dax is standing square again, blocking the way out, clearly having seen Bellamy just as Clarke has. “I don’t want to hurt you Clarke, but Shumway said no witnesses.” He takes a step forward, gesturing with his hand for Clarke to leave. When she doesn’t, he sneers. “Your choice.” He says through his teeth.

 

After that, everything sort of happens at once.

 

Dax pulls out a gun, and Clarke vaguely registers it being aimed at her before she’s knocked to the ground, a gunshot echoing off the walls of the concrete bunker. Bellamy is standing in front of her when she looks up, and he’s got Dax’s arms above his head. There’s a gun on the ground between them.

 

Bellamy goes careening into the barrel from before, sending it sideways and knocking it’s contents to the floor. Clarke watches Bellamy land among the slimy black sticks- no, the slimy black _guns_ that have spilled out of the century old container. Dax lunges for his own gun just as Bellamy gets back to his feet. Clarke scrambles forward just as Bellamy dives at Dax, knocking him to the ground. She doesn’t know what she’s doing- there were very few guns on the Ark and they were reserved for guards and training- as she picks up one of the guns that Bellamy had landed on seconds before. She remembers a movie, something about the wars, and her hands are moving as if to their own accord. She hears another crash, looks up to see Dax towering over Bellamy. She grips the gun in her hands, aims, and shoots.

 

There’s a shot that rings through the air, but Dax only jumps a little, his eyes landing on Clarke and the gun in her hands. Luckily, that’s all Bellamy needs.

 

Dax is on the ground with a knife in his neck before Clarke can register the light fading from his eyes as he stares at her. She stares back at his lifeless form in shock, dropping the gun and shoving it away from her on the dirty ground.

 

Bellamy crawls over to her, his breath coming in shallow huffs and his face bloodied. She goes into doctor mode when his hand lands on her leg. Her hands flit to his face, gently checking his wounds. “You’re okay,” She sighs as her fingers brush against his bruised cheekbone. “You’re okay.” She cups his jaw with her hand and they sag against each other.

 

“How does ‘you would never hurt anyone intentionally’ look now, Princess?” He pants, letting his head fall back against the wall.

 

“The same as it did before, Bellamy.” She lolls her head back and around so she can look at him.

 

“I just killed someone.”

 

“He would’ve killed you if you hadn’t.”

 

Bellamy is quiet for a second. “I should have let him.” His voice comes out as a breath, a whisper, blowing air across Clarke’s face when he looks at her. His eyes are watery and scared. “I- I should have let him.”

 

“And left us to survive without you? You would never.” Clarke takes his hand from her leg and clutches it. They may not be friends, but she knows without a doubt that he would never leave the pack to deal with things without him. She knows, or at least thinks she knows, that he wouldn’t leave her to handle it all alone. When she looks back at him, though, tears are falling over the brims of his eyes.

 

“I keep hurting people. Why do I keep hurting people?” He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to pull his hand away from her. She holds on tight, moving to lean her forehead against his shoulder. “I’m a monster.”

 

“Would you say the same thing about me if I’d been the one to kill Dax?” She nudges him gently when he doesn’t answer. “Would you?”

 

“Of course not,”

 

“Of course not.” She repeats, sighing into his shoulder. She slides closer to him. “So why would you say it about yourself?”

 

“In case you haven’t noticed, Princess,” He sniffs and wipes his nose on his sleeve. “I have a few more strikes against me.”

 

“Anything that you’ve ever done that you consider a strike against you is something you’ve done to protect your sister.”

 

“Dax wasn’t after Octavia.”

 

Clarke licks her lips carefully before answering. “But he would’ve killed both of us if you hadn’t killed him.” Bellamy turns his head away from her. “You saved my life, Bellamy. If either of us would have died today, the pack would end up at war and dead within the month.” She sits up so she can look at him. “I need you. We need you. I don’t care if you think you’re a monster.”

 

He’s silent for a long time. Clarke almost thinks he’s fallen asleep, the way his breathing evens out, when he speaks again.

 

“They’d have you. If I was gone, they’d still have an Alpha. They’d still have you.”

 

“The only reason our pack works is because they have both of us.” She sighs and presses a flat hand to his arm. “You know that.”

 

They lay there for what feels like hours. Clarke drifts off against Bellamy’s shoulder, and when she wakes up he’s got his arm around her, holding her close against him. She falls asleep again to the sound of his breathing under her head.


	5. Somewhere, With the Moon(shine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some.... sweetness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Just so everyone knows, this fic ends somewhere around where s1 ends in the show. FYI.]

When he wakes up, Bellamy is sore.

 

Everywhere.

 

His face, arms, and chest hurt from the fight with Dax. His legs, from the long walk to the bunker. His ass, from sitting on the concrete floor of the bunker in the same position all night (He hadn’t dared to move an inch all night- Clarke was leaning on him peacefully and he was afraid that if he moved, she would wake up and move away from him.). His shoulder, from supporting Clarke as she slept.

 

Which.

 

Clarke slept on him last night. Bellamy would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t pleased with the development. He just wishes that it didn’t take having to kill someone for it to happen.

 

Clarke stirs only moments after he does, but she doesn’t shuffle away as soon as she does, like he thought she would. She groans a few times and headbutts his shoulder as if pushing it around could wake her up more. Maybe it does. Bellamy doesn’t know.

 

She finally pulls away from him when he nudges her head back with his arm. She squints at him and grimaces, then blinks and pulls herself to her feet. Bellamy watches her look around them, clearly trying to regain the knowledge that they’d acquired last night. Her eyes catch on Dax’s body and she sighs, turning away to rub at her eyes.

 

“So, guns.” He offers when she stands for just a little too long with her hands pressed to her eyes. She takes a deep breath and nods.

 

“We should bring them back. But we need to decide who has access.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“We’ll need a way to lock them up, just in case. And we need to send a group back out here to get these blankets as soon as possible.”

 

“Do we want anyone else to know about-”

 

“We should move the body. I doubt anyone wants to come down here while he’s laying there.” Bellamy watches her regard the body again. “Okay. Let’s get started.”

 

They move the body to a spot on the ground a few hundred feet away from the door to the bunker. Bellamy almost asks if they should bury it, but when he catches Clarke’s eye she communicates without words that they won’t bury it, even if he wanted to. They go back to the bunker, string up a few guns so they can carry them. “Do you want to be in charge of who gets them, or should I do it?” Bellamy asks once they’ve started walking home. Clarke smirks at him.

 

“I think we both get to decide. We’re a team, remember?” The small smile stays on her face when she looks away, and Bellamy matches it.

 

“Yeah, I remember.”

 

They walk side by side on their trek through the woods this time.

 

The camp is in mild disarray when they get back. Lincoln came back, apparently, because he and Octavia are both pushing people down onto logs or into tents, looking more tired and haggard than either Clarke or Bellamy could imagine. Jasper is glaring at Lincoln from across camp, and Monty seems to be harassing Raven through three tent walls about building treehouses. Sterling and Miller are curled up at the bottom of the ramp into the dropship, and Murphy and Finn look like they’re in a staring contest while they sit in front of Fox, who is apparently the judge.

 

When Octavia sees Clarke and Bellamy walk through the gates, she sags in relief. “Thank stars you’re back.” She moves toward them, her voice as weary as she looks. Bellamy swings his arm under her shoulder when she leans against him. He’s glad that even now, she isn’t afraid to ask him for help.

 

“What the hell happened?” Clarke is the one to ask, and Octavia just sighs as Lincoln joins them.

 

“You’ll want to restart your food supply. Your jobi nuts have gone bad.” Is all Lincoln says before moving away to push Monroe back into her tent. Octavia pushes herself off of Bellamy and makes for her own tent.

 

“I’ve been up all night babysitting _your_ kids, big brother. I’m going to bed.” She’s gone before Bellamy can say anything, calling for Lincoln to follow her into her- _their-_ tent. Clarke is moving closer to Bellamy and turning him away from their retreating backs before he has time to even bristle. He looks down at Clarke, who’s just staring around them at the loopy teenagers.

 

“So, I guess the gun safety talk will have to wait a few hours.”

 

“Yup.”

 

“I’ll go lock them up and we can start putting the kids to bed?”

 

“Sounds good.”

 

It proves to be harder than they thought it would be to put everyone to bed. Monty insists that he’s moving into Miller’s tent and Miller agrees sleepily, tugging Monty away from Jasper, who wields a stick like a weapon and continues to glare at Octavia’s tent. Finn and Murphy yell about their honor for a few minutes before they unlock their eyes from each other and turn to their respective Alpha (Finn asks Bellamy for permission to sleep in Clarke’s tent. Clarke laughs, but Bellamy pulls Finn towards his and Raven’s tent without answering. He shouldn’t have to- Finn knows that Bellamy would never agree to that.). Murphy slings an arm around Clarke and tells her what she’s doing wrong, but she just pats his shoulder and nods in response. Bellamy gets Finn to bed before she gets Murphy to bed, and he watches her laugh as Murphy groans at her about not having showers built yet. He’s glad that she’s taking this all lightly- he knows that if it were him Murphy was trying to complain to, he wouldn’t take it so well.

 

Every few minutes, another delinquent will stumble out of their tent, groaning, but still not sober. Every time, Clarke and Bellamy look at each other to decide whose turn it is to send them back to bed. They turn it into a light game, seeing who can touch their finger to their nose first, and sending the loser to deal with whoever is slinking out of their tent. Bellamy likes this casual fun that they can have, even while their camp is completely non functioning. _If it could be like this all the time,_ he thinks, _Clarke and I could be friends._

 

Unsurprisingly, Finn and Murphy prove to be the most difficult to keep down. Murphy seems to be more sober every time he stumbles over to Clarke to lay out whatever he’s thought of, but Finn somehow seems more loopy each time. He makes it all the way to them before Clarke’s finger lands on her nose, leaving Bellamy to drag him back to bed for the fourth time. When Bellamy comes back, Murphy is leaning his back against the log that Clarke is sitting on, his arms folded across his chest. Clarke seems unbothered by his rambling, so Bellamy assumes that Murphy has passed the ‘mostly sober’ test.

 

“- and look, Princess, I don’t want to undermine your credibility or whatever, I’m just saying, if you had a partner in crime for, you know, the not-leadery things, people wouldn’t be afraid of you. Just someone that was as close with you as Bellamy, but someone who wasn’t, like, _in charge._ Someone you could, like, have some _fun_ with.” Clarke laughs as Murphy waggles his eyebrows.

 

“Are you propositioning me?”

 

“I’m not _not_.” Murphy smiles when Clarke laughs again and shakes her head. Bellamy sits next to Clarke, a little closer than before.

 

“Who’s propositioning who?” He asks, trying to pretend he hadn’t heard what Murphy said. Murphy just rolls his eyes at Bellamy, proving that he’s sober enough to know when Bellamy’s faking something. Clarke seems not to notice, because she just turns to Bellamy with a smile.

 

“Murphy thinks I need someone to help me ‘take the edge off’.” She snorts as if such a thing were unthinkable. “He suggested himself.”

 

“I did not suggest myself, you made that assumption all your own, Princess.” She rolls her eyes at Murphy and squeezes his shoulder.

 

“Well, I’ll keep you in mind if I ever want that.” She gives his shoulder a little shove. “For now, go back to bed. We’ve got a lot to discuss with everyone, later.” Murphy sighs, but stands.

 

“And I’ve got a lot to discuss with you, Princess.” Clarke laughs again, and Murphy winks playfully before turning around and going to his tent. Bellamy raises an eyebrow at Clarke, who shrugs, still smiling.

 

“Seeing Murphy openly flirt with you is something I would be perfectly okay with never seeing again.” Bellamy starts once the flap on Murphy’s tent has closed. He speaks quietly in an attempt to frain from waking anyone else up. He wants a minute to talk to Clarke.

 

“He wasn’t flirting, Bellamy. He’s just messing with me because he knows he can get away with it right now.” Bellamy frowns at her, skeptical, and she smiles again. “What? I’m in a good mood.” She pulls a chunk of meat from where it’s roasting over the fire and offers Bellamy a piece. He takes the meat and rips off a piece and lets her have the rest.

 

“How many of those Jobi nuts did you eat?” He asks, still not sure that she’s telling the truth. She just smiles at him around her mouth full of food, though.

 

“You’re hilarious, but none. Seriously, Bellamy, it was just nice seeing everyone so relaxed and carefree for a while. It’s only been a couple weeks down here, but the way everyone acts, you’d think it’s been months.” The light behind her smile has faded a bit, and Bellamy tries to think of a way to bring it back.

 

After a few seconds of eating, he opens his mouth to speak again. “Well,” He starts, not sure how what he’s about to say will go over with Clarke. “I, for one, would like to see you in a good mood more often.” He smirks a little at her and leans over his knees, closer to the fire they sit by. Clarke copies him.

 

“Hopefully, you will. If everything goes well with the Grounders, I’m sure I’ll be in a good mood all the time.”

 

“Here’s hoping.” He nudges her shoulder with his, gently.

 

“Here’s hoping.”

 

* * *

 

It’s nearly nightfall when the hungover delinquents begin to emerge steadily from their tents, joining Clarke and Bellamy around the main fire. By this point, they’ve talked out exactly what they’ll say, who’ll have access, and how they’ll enforce the rules that come with handling guns. Bellamy, having trained with the guard on the Ark, will teach basic gun handling classes twice a day for those who weren’t deemed fit to handle them but who want to. Clarke will help Miller keep everyone safe inside the gates while the classes happen. Octavia joined them early, adding her input. She suggested that Lincoln teaches a class on hand to hand fighting, too. Bellamy had asked why it would be necessary, if they were going to be at peace with the Grounders. Lincoln told him about the few who roamed the woods alone, outcasts from other packs in the area. Clarke and Bellamy had shared a look before nodding in unison at Lincoln.

 

As the last of the delinquents join the gathering, Bellamy watches Clarke run through their pre-written speech in her head again. She’s done it three times since the kids started gathering around them, clearly trying to remember everything that they decided to bring up. He wants to do something to reassure her- a hand on her back, a nudge of his shoulder, something intimate that he doesn’t think she would appreciate in front of their people. He holds himself back, but only barely. He regrets holding back though when Finn appears at Clarke’s side and doesn’t hesitate to touch her elbow and squeeze it reassuringly. Clarke smiles politely, but shrugs him off and turns to Bellamy with a look on her face that’s nothing if not determined.

 

“Ready?” She asks. Bellamy smirks at her.

 

“Yeah, Princess. Ready.”

 

Clarke does all the talking. There’s a wave of excitement that washes over the delinquents at the announcement of guns, which makes Clarke look back to Bellamy wearily. He nods at her, and apparently that’s all she needs to get the kids back to listening to her. She tells the group about the plans that they’ve made, and assures them that no one will have a gun unless they’ve received the proper training from Bellamy or Miller. When she’s finished, she asks if there are any questions, and Finn shifts around enough to draw attention to himself, but doesn’t say anything. Clarke reads the list of names they came up with of people they’re giving guns to and tells them to report to Bellamy and Miller after breakfast the next day.

 

Bellamy watches her dismiss the group and turn to him. “Okay?”

 

He sees movement behind her and frowns. “Yeah, it went well. Walk with me.” He reaches around her and puts a hand on her back, leads her toward his tent in an attempt to avoid Finn.

 

“Finn thinks it’s a bad idea.”

 

“Spacewalker is irrelevant. We made our decision.” He says the second part louder as he can hear footsteps approaching them that sound a lot like Finn. The steps stop, then take off in another direction.

 

“Where are we going?” Clarke asks, and Bellamy stops.

 

“I figured you wouldn’t want to deal with Spacewalker right away.” Clarke rolls her eyes at him and sighs.

 

“Well, thanks, but I think he’s going to confront me about it later anyways.” She’s looking over Bellamy’s shoulder as she talks. “He’s glaring.”

 

“He watches you like a jealous boyfriend.” Bellamy shifts so he’s blocking Clarke’s view of Finn. “Acts like a controlling dick.”

 

“Not much to be jealous about.” She mutters, and Bellamy snorts.

 

“I think Murphy would disagree, the way he was hitting on you earlier.”

 

“ _Stars,_ Bellamy. He wasn’t flirting with me.”

 

“Why are you in such denial about people flirting with you, Princess?”

 

Clarke scoffs. “Because people don’t flirt with me, Bellamy. I’m the Princess, their alpha,” She shrugs. “Just believe me when I say no one is interested.”

 

“People are interested, Princess.” Bellamy replies, bewildered. Does she really believe that no one _looks_ at her? The way she looks…. Bellamy himself finds it hard to look away sometimes while she’s doing _nothing_ \- when she’s walking around camp, or handing a knife to one of the kids, or while she’s sitting with Miller by the fire, talking about logistics and who they can put on watch. Clarke is _gorgeous_ , and if Bellamy, as her equal, can recognize that, then surely everyone else in camp must too. The idea that she doesn’t _see_ that…. It’s too much.

 

“It’s not like it matters, anyways. I don’t have time for that sort of thing.”

 

“Well, you deserve it. If it’s something that you want, then you won’t have a problem getting it, trust me.” Bellamy almost reaches out to touch her shoulder, a reassuring gesture, but he stops short when he sees the look on her face. Worried he’s made her uncomfortable, he draws himself back a step. “Either way, the world won’t explode if you take a few minutes for yourself. We both know that.” He looks at her again, and she’s giving him a small smile, the odd look from before gone. He smiles back, enchanted with her soft eyes as she looks up at him.

 

“Thanks, Bellamy.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

They stare at each other for a few more seconds before Clarke clears her throat and excuses herself to go to bed. They say goodnight, but Bellamy stays awake for several more hours before finally succumbing to rest.

 

* * *

 

They talk to Jaha the next morning and get Bellamy pardoned for his crime, taking a weight off of both of their shoulders. Bellamy starts teaching shooting classes while Clarke, Monty, Lincoln, and Octavia work together to gather herbs before the weather gets too cold for the earth to grow anything helpful. The idea of training more people to be medics is tossed around, and while they’re all in favor of it, none of them are sure who would be good for it. They joke about Jasper trying to tend to medical needs as they work.

 

Lincoln shows Clarke a plant that will make the transformation into wolf less painful, and Clarke puts Monty and Octavia in charge of gathering enough to get them through the next time. While they’re alone, Lincoln tries to show Clarke a plant that the Grounders use to prevent pregnancy, but she brushes him off.

 

“We have implants that the Ark gave us to regulate population.” She explains, and Lincoln frowns.

 

“They didn’t want children in space?”

 

“They did, but only enough to keep our species alive. Second children weren’t allowed. No one had any siblings. I mean, some did, but it was illegal. That’s why Octavia was-” Clarke stops herself before she divulges any private information to Lincoln that Octavia might not want him to know yet.

 

“She was in the floor.” Lincoln finishes for her as he pulls the contraceptive plant from the ground and lays it on the blanket they’re using to collect with. Clarke nods. “She didn’t tell me why.” He says quietly, and Clarke frowns.

 

“She’s here now. That’s what matters.” She smiles gently at Lincoln, who nods. They work in silence for a few minutes, listening to Monty and Octavia argue a few meters away. In the distance, shots from the shooting range go off every few seconds, and occasionally, even Bellamy’s commanding voice breaks through the trees, shouting at the trainees. Clarke doesn’t notice when Lincoln stops and looks over his shoulder to watch Octavia as she argues with Monty passionately. When she finally does notice, Lincoln quickly tries to hide it.

 

“Clarke, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Lincoln’s hands remain still, in his lap. Clarke nods for him to continue, resting her own hands on her knees. “Forgive me if I overstep my bounds, here. There’s talk among your people that you and Bellamy are bonded, though your people don’t use that word.” He pauses, seems to try and gage her reaction, which as of now is just confusion. “If that were true, it may change things in relation to my people.” He finishes, and adjusts his position on the ground so he can lean closer to her, almost conspiratorially. Clarke’s frown only deepens at this, confusion overtaking anything else she may feel at hearing what the delinquents say about her and Bellamy.

 

“I’m not sure what you mean. I mean, of course Bellamy and I have bonded over the past few days, given the circumstances, but not any more than anyone else has.” She watches as Lincoln’s frown meets her own, reaching the same level of depth in their shared confusion.

 

“You say you have bonded, but are you bonded?”

 

“I think so. Is being bonded different than having bonded?”

 

“Yes, so which is it?”

 

“Um, both? Lincoln, you’re going to have to explain the whole ‘being bonded’ thing to me.” Lincoln’s frown finally eases as he realizes his mistake in not elaborating.

 

“Sorry. I assumed you would know the depth of the meaning.” Clarke shakes her head, and Lincoln sighs. “It’s difficult to explain. In short, though, werewolves can ‘bond’ with someone. It’s a deep connection that they can only share with one person their whole life. To be bonded with someone is to trust them unconditionally and eternally.” Clarke knows her face must have gone pale at the realization that Lincoln thinks her and Bellamy are _together_. “To those outside the pairing, it must just look like a love relationship, which is probably why your people were confused.” Lincoln finishes softly, as though he’s sharing a secret with her. Clarke feels her cheeks heating up, undoubtedly turning pink, as Lincoln watches her absorb what he’s said.

 

“Bellamy and I…. We aren’t like that.” She says finally, after the seconds stretch into minutes. Lincoln nods gently.

 

“Forgive me for believing the rumor.”

 

“There’s nothing to forgive.” She answers honestly, and smiles at Lincoln. He returns the smile and they go back to plucking plants from the ground.

 

“If there comes a time when you do happen to ‘be like that’,” Lincoln says after a few moments. “He will feel it with his whole body.”

 

Clarke takes a pause at that. The idea of Bellamy feeling something for her _with his whole body_ isn’t something she’s prepared to confront, even after the realization she made while talking to him those nights ago. So she diverts her attention back to Lincoln. “Do you?”

 

“Do I what?”

 

“Feel it with your whole body?” If Clarke felt like she knew Lincoln better, she might trust her eyes that he’s blushing. He avoids her eyes, looks at the ground for a while before answering with a small smile.

 

“Of course.”

 

It’s their nineteenth day on the ground the next time anything remarkable happens- Unity Day. The feed of the Ark cuts out halfway through the ceremonies, which gives Jasper and Monty a reason to celebrate the day even more rigorously. Clarke and Bellamy find themselves watching over their kids as drinking games are played around camp. Bellamy’s already given up on trying to convince Clarke to join the rest- he’d rather have her here, with him, anyway. They gently tease each other about their respective inability to _let loose_ and share the cup of moonshine that Monty shoves into Clarke’s hand early in the evening. It’s _warm_ , watching everyone hoot and holler into the trees, failing to worry about what will come tomorrow- Although neither of them says it, Clarke and Bellamy are both standing to the side for a reason. The meeting with the Grounders is approaching, faster than they’ve really had time to think too hard about. They know what they’re going to say, of course. They’ve talked about it in great length, so much so that Monty instituted a ban on any more planning, just as Jasper rolled out a giant barrel of moonshine.

 

Now, though, they just watch and whisper to each other, grinning softly in the light from the bonfire. If anyone were to ask, she’d deny it, but she realizes after her third sip from their shared cup that her walls are down, right now, with him, in a way they’ve only ever been down with Wells before tonight. She can’t bring herself to reinstall her walls, though, with the way he’s smiling at her and talking to her so easily. She wishes, _stars,_ she wishes that things could be like this all the time- this warm, this easy. _In a perfect world,_ she thinks to herself, pulling a fallen leaf from Bellamy’s hair as he talks, _we could have this._ Bellamy stops talking as her hand falls away from his head, and just watches her. For a moment it’s as if a new set of walls go up- encasing them together, now, blocking out the partying teenagers around them. There’s a second- a millisecond, really- where Clarke thinks _If I just leaned in a bit more_ , but it’s interrupted by a new chorus of shouting. It’s stopped sounding like a party outside their walls, but a mass panic. They pull apart, turning again to try and take in the scene before them. Raven is running at them, shouting about _The Ark, Clarke!_ But Clarke is already looking at the sky, following the gaze of the delinquents spread before them.

 

Sure enough, there’s another ship hurtling through the sky- bigger than Raven’s, unmistakably. Clarke smiles when she feels Bellamy join her in standing. “They’re coming down,” She whispers, and looks over to Bellamy briefly, who matches her grin.

 

But as the seconds tick by, something seems wrong. “Clarke,” Bellamy says, but her eyes are glued to the ship that holds her mother and the parents of the kids she’s been taking care of. “They aren’t slowing down.” There’s an edge of panic to his voice, and that’s what convinces Clarke that things really are as bad as she’s thinking they are.

  
“They’re probably still fine.” Raven says, but her voice isn’t as firm as it usually is. Clarke feels tears forming in her eyes as the ship disappears behind the tree line, and when they hear the _boom_ of it crashing, she drops to the ground, unable to hold herself up any longer. She’s down only a second before big hands are on her back, pulling her against something warm and sturdy. She vaguely registers arms coming around her and wet spots forming on her shoulders, as if whoever she’s being held against is also crying. _Sobbing_ , she thinks dryly, pushing back against the body behind her- _Bellamy_ , she realizes, and curls into him even deeper. Raven has disappeared, once again leaving Clarke and Bellamy alone, only this time, it’s not warm, or happy, or easy. Even with his arms wrapped around her and his chest pressed to her back, Clarke is desperately cold.


	6. Chapter 6

Clarke wakes up with a weight pressed into her stomach. Her throat feels dry, her eyes sting, and she feels the effects of crying all the way to her chest. _My heart_ , she thinks, realizing that the ache in her chest is the feeling closest to having a broken heart. She feels empty, but it somehow still hurts.

 

Clarke wills herself to take a deep breath and evaluate where she is- the weight pressing into her stomach shifts, and she’s pulled back against something warm, somehow familiar in a strange way. It hits her all at once where she is- who she’s with.

 

The cot she’s laying on doesn’t belong to her- there are too many pelts and blankets on it, it’s too soft, too big. Too _not empty_ ; the solid wall behind her appears to be Bellamy, who’s apparently wide awake with the way he’s already looking at her when she swivels her head to confirm that it’s him. His eyes are sad when they meet her eyes. _He doesn’t have family on the Ark. He can’t understand._ She’s about to tell him _It’s okay_ (even if it isn’t, she’d rather have him think that she’s fine than give her the look on his face now- pity, clearly displayed, even though he knows how much she hates being pitied.) when he speaks.

 

“Stars, Clarke.” It’s barely a whisper. “I can’t imagine- I’m so sorry.” The look in his eyes- Clarke had thought they so clearly showed pity, but at his words she realizes it can’t be pity. It’s sympathy, so deep that he _knows_ she doesn’t need him to say anything else. He can feel it the same way she feels the ache in her chest. She’d been so _angry_ with her mother the past few days, spending her time avoiding the issue- avoiding thinking about it, too- instead of facing it. Now her mother is gone, and the last thing she probably thought was _I’ll get to see my daughter_ and Clarke has been refusing to talk to her for days. The thought that Abby probably died with hope on her mind, while Clarke was on _Earth_ living in anger- it makes Clarke shudder.

 

She closes her eyes as Bellamy pulls her against him again, chest to chest, her nose tucked under his chin, legs tangled together. (To Bellamy, it’s reminiscent of something much less innocent, the way they hold each other now. He doesn’t want her like that right now, though. All that’s on his mind is holding Clarke until she’s pulled back together.)

 

They lay in silence until the camp is clearly awake, the sounds of the morning stumbling through the canvas of Bellamy’s tent. When they finally rise, they don’t really step away from each other. The space that they’ve spent the morning in, the shared comfort, lingers even after they step out into camp, emerging together and facing the looks that get thrown at them with little to no regard. Clarke gives Miller the order to prepare to take over for the day, and they begin to gather what they’ll need for their trek to the meeting place- war doesn’t care about any personal battles that any one person may be facing, and even if it isn’t war yet, the task of securing peace still demands attention.

 

Lincoln meets them at the front gate when they’re ready. He seems to realize that the quietness that follows them is more than just that, and he joins them in their heavy silence. Octavia hugs each of them, and although she isn’t quiet, the mood remains. Monty gives Clarke a medical kit to take, and squeezes her shoulders between his hands briefly, a look of earnest on his face, before he backs away to stand with Octavia and watch them leave. Clarke turns to Bellamy, finds his eyes already on her, and nods. The gates open at a glance from Bellamy, and they leave.

 

The woods offer a chance for the quiet to continue, which Clarke is grateful for. In the silence, no one guides her thoughts, and so she leads them to trivial things- focuses on the foods that Lincoln has mentioned rather than on the doubtless fact that she’s been officially left behind in this world by everyone she’s loved. _Maybe they’ll have chocolate_ , she hopes, moving through trees and branches.

 

When the silence is broken by a horn, the only person to not jump in surprise is Lincoln. For a moment, they freeze, watching the ground for bugs that should be scurrying in the opposite direction, but there’s nothing. Finally, Lincoln nods at them, and they continue walking.

 

“It’s to alert Anya that we are approaching. If all goes well, she will most likely invite you to come to our village for a festival.” Lincoln pauses to allow Clarke to catch up to him. “The two of you should decide now whether you’ll accept. Never hesitate in front of another Alpha.”

 

“What is the festival?” Bellamy calls, still a few paces behind- Clarke would be concerned that he’s fallen so far behind, but with the way she can feel him watching her, she assumes it’s just so he can keep an eye on her.

 

“When two peoples form an alliance, we celebrate. Generally, the Alphas and their seconds come to the festival, and at the end, they will invite a group from our village to theirs, so that they may evaluate ways to help each other.” Lincoln looks over his shoulder at Bellamy, who’s still behind. Lincoln stops walking and frowns. “How are you, Bellamy?”

 

Bellamy stops where he is, still several feet away. Clarke watches him hesitate to answer, sweat soaking through his shirt in several places. Lincoln is dry, free from any sweat, and even Clarke doesn’t feel as put out by this walk as Bellamy looks.

 

“Do you think you’re sick?” Clarke asks, moving closer to him. She curses herself for not noticing sooner- they’d shared a bed last night, after all, and had spent the morning in moderate closeness. Bellamy takes a step away from her as she moves towards him.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Clearly not. We shouldn’t have to argue about this. What’s wrong?” Clarke takes another step towards him, and this time he doesn’t move. He’s paler than usual, and his whole body sags.

 

“It feels the way it felt the first time.” Bellamy is the one to move forward now, a short, staggering movement that has Clarke reaching out to support him. He leans on her carefully.

 

“You think you’re turning again?” Lincoln asks, moving closer to both of them. Bellamy nods.

 

“And I’m guessing that’s not supposed to happen.” Lincoln shakes his head. “Great.”

 

“Have you ever seen this before?” Again, Lincoln shakes his head. Clarke’s mind is racing. “This can’t be possible.” Clarke pulls Bellamy’s arm around her shoulders, attempting to keep him up on his feet.

 

“Well, apparently it is, Princess.” He groans. “How much farther?”

 

“I know it’s not my decision to make,” Lincoln starts, ignoring Bellamy’s question. His eyes dart around, a new alertness settling over them as Bellamy pants. “But if you want my input, Bellamy should come with me. Clarke, you should go alone to the meeting and make an excuse for us.” Clarke and Bellamy both begin to protest, but Lincoln only shakes his head.

 

Clarke and Bellamy share a look. Clarke knows, even if she doesn’t like it, that Lincoln is right. She presses her lips into a line as she watches Bellamy argue with himself silently. Finally, his head drops to her shoulder.

 

“Lead the way.” His voice is muffled in Clarke’s hair, but he sounds so miserable that she wishes she didn’t have to let him go. She wishes she could go with him, help him, be with him the way he was for her. But all she can do is watch Lincoln take Bellamy’s weight from her shoulders and pull him in the opposite direction.

 

“Keep heading west. When you find the river, go upstream. You’ll find the bridge.” Lincoln calls as he walks away. Bellamy’s head swivels, and they make eye contact briefly before he turns back around.

 

Clarke faces away from them, head spinning. Bellamy is an Alpha, but he’s being effected in a way no one has ever seen before. _Monty will have an idea or two about this._ Clarke walks forward. Miller will have to help her more, now that Bellamy is sporadically out of commission. _Who else is affected like this?_ The thought hits Clarke like a sack of logs. She stops walking. There’s a chance that more than just Bellamy is in the process of turning into a dangerous creature- a mindless, dangerous creature that _killed_ some of their friends the last time they turned. It’s only been _seven days_ since they all turned the first time. They won’t survive if they have to deal with this on a weekly basis. Clarke spins around, trying to catch a glimpse of Bellamy and Lincoln through the woods, but they’re gone. _Do I go to the meeting and risk my people hurting each other or do I go to my people and risk war?_ Either way, people get hurt or die. Clarke takes a deep breath, hears voices through the trees speaking fast in a language she doesn’t know.

 

Her feet carry her to the bridge.

 

* * *

 

 

Bellamy curses whatever gods may exist- if they’re real, they must hate him.

 

All he’d wanted when they started walking was to be there for Clarke. He just wanted to be there as an assist if she needed it- him- and make sure that this _Anya_ that Lincoln keeps whispering about isn’t sketchy or dangerous. He just wanted to protect his princess.

 

But whichever god he’s somehow pissed off has decided to curse him. So, fuck it. He’s cursing them back.

 

Lincoln is mostly quiet as they walk- in the opposite direction from camp, which is mildly disconcerting to Bellamy. He still has reservations about trusting this grounder, regardless of how his sister feels about the man. He would much rather suffer through whatever the hell is happening to him where at least someone will hear him if he screams.

 

Speaking of whatever the hell this is- _What the hell is this?_ It feels worse than it did the first time, and even that was subdued, since Bellamy’s the Alpha. Everyone else got what he’s getting now, but worse. If it hurts this badly for him this time around, he can’t imagine what everyone else must be going through.

 

_Fuck. I fucking forgot about everyone fucking else. Shit._

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke swears that she will never go to one of these meetings without Bellamy again.

 

Clarke stumbles through an excuse (Apparently, Octavia fell out of a tree and both Lincoln _and_ Bellamy felt it was necessary they stay behind to take care of her and abandon any chance of peace between the delinquents and the grounders. Believable.) and forgets half of the main points that she and Bellamy had thought out together. She stammers out a request for help building more permanent homes, which Anya brushes past like it’s a given. At this point, Clarke takes a deep breath, regaining some level of composure and squaring her shoulders.

 

“Anya, all we want is to be safe. Can you promise to help us with that?”

 

Anya nods, regarding Clarke carefully. Clarke smiles.

 

“Then I think this meeting can come to a close. I’d really like to get back to my people and make sure everything is alright, which I’m sure you understand.”

 

“I understand that you need this treaty much more than we do. You and your other Alpha would do well to remember that. Maybe it’ll encourage him to show up next time.” Clarke nods. “Of course, we extend to you both an invitation to join us in TonDC for our celebration. If not, a delegation will come to your camp before the week is out. Just so your people know not to kill any more of us.” Anya peers down her nose at Clarke, who takes a page from Bellamy’s book and squares her shoulders. A huff of air that’s reminiscent of a snort comes out of Anya’s nose. “You will hear from us soon, Clarke kom Skaikru.”

 

With a final nod, Anya climbs onto a horse and disappears into the trees. Clarke lets out a heavy sigh, counts to three, and turns on her heel, taking off into the woods.

 

* * *

 

 

Lincoln and Bellamy are waiting for Bellamy to turn in the cave where they met (Bellamy scowls when Lincoln pulls him under the overhang, but Lincoln ignores him.) when they hear the first of the howls. Though they’d both been staring at the ground, their heads shoot up and their eyes meet at the sound.

 

“I’m assuming your people won’t be too happy to hear that.” Bellamy mutters as he tries not to focus on the way his muscles clench and unclench without his consent. Lincoln shakes his head. Bellamy sighs. “We should-”

 

“Do you not have faith in your ‘princess’?” Lincoln smirks a little at the glare Bellamy gives him.

 

“I do.” Bellamy says, and Lincoln looks away. “If our people are hurting, at least one of us needs to be there. Clarke has her hands full and I’m not letting her do this alone.” He finishes, pushing off the ground and onto his feet. Lincoln scrambles up too, already making to push Bellamy to the ground, but Bellamy shoves past him. “I’m going home.” _I’m going to Clarke._

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke makes it home just as Miller is giving the order to close the gates. “And don’t let anyone out, guys. This is serious shit.”

 

“Miller,” Clarke waves him down as she comes out of the treeline. Miller meets her halfway, taking in her appearance with a quick glance.

 

“Where’s Bellamy?” Miller smirks a little at the sweat on Clarke’s forehead, and she frowns.

 

“What do you mean where’s Bellamy? Did he not come back here with Lincoln?” She asks, and Millers smirk fades.

 

“No,” He pulls her into camp and the gates close behind them. “But there’s something going on with some of the kids who turned last week. Take a look.” Miller ushers Clarke into the dropship.

 

There are significantly less people in the cots (The same ones that Clarke hasn’t had time to clean up or move since the first epidemic) than there were the first time, which Clarke takes a small comfort in. Octavia and Monty are moving between the beds, giving water to everyone that requests it, and Jasper is in the cot that had belonged to Bellamy last week. There’s little to no movement among those who are in bed. Things are not good.

 

“Things are not good.” Monty says as he passes her, handing a cup of water to one of the many Johns. Clarke shakes herself out of the distressed trance she’d been in, rests a gentle hand on Millers arm, and moves to join Monty at Johns side.

 

“It’s happening again.”

 

“Lincoln locked himself in a cage last time. It was like he was subdued.” Octavia joins them, pushing the hair off of Johns forehead. The boy smiles weakly, closing his eyes. “I don’t know, maybe that would work for us.”

 

“Yeah, maybe if we’d had longer than a week to plan and get restraints for everyone together.” Monty pulls away from John, and Clarke and Octavia follow him.

 

“So what do we do?” Octavia asks, and Clarke shakes her head, thinking.

 

“For now we might just have to let it run its course. Hopefully after this run-” Clarke is cut off by shouting outside. She glances at Monty, who glances at Octavia, and they run to see what’s happening.

 

“Bell!” Octavia cries as soon as the flap in the dropship door is moved. She runs to meet Bellamy, who’s stumbling across the yard. Lincoln follows close behind. Clarke follows Octavia to meet them.

 

“Where were you?” Clarke asks, and Bellamy shrugs.

 

“In a cave.”

 

“I thought you were coming home. I-” Clarke pauses, frowning at Bellamy. “We were worried.”

 

“I’m here, Princess.” Bellamy gives Clarke this indescribably soft look, masked by a grimace. After a moment, Bellamy clears his throat. “So, what’s going on?”

 

“It’s about half of the kids who changed last time.” Monty pipes up, finally joining them. “They’re going through the same symptoms as last time, but to a higher degree.” He pauses. “These kids are in a lot of pain, Clarke.”

 

“Lincoln can help with that.” Octavia looks to Lincoln, who nods silently. “We can make the tea that eases the pain, get it dispersed.”

 

“That’s good. But how do we keep them from hurting anyone?” Monty asks. Lincoln frowns.

 

“We are not inherently violent. When we change, it just lowers our abilities to discern feelings. I only restrain myself so that I don’t wander away.” He offers, and he’s met with stares. “It can be tempting to just run, sometimes.”

 

“So, we can just let them be? No one needs restrained?” Clarke asks, and Lincoln hesitates to answer. Finally, he motions for them to follow him, and the five end up in Octavia’s tent.

 

“I didn’t want to say this out loud, but we all know that Finn is the one who killed your people. We know he’s violent when he turns. He can’t be left without restraints.”

 

“So we lock Finn up but no one else? Does anyone really think he’s going to go for that?” Bellamy asks.

 

“I mean, maybe if it were Clarke tying him up-” Octavia replies, and Bellamy practically _growls_ at her. “Hey, calm down, Spot. I didn’t mean it like that. Stars, gross.”

 

“Octavia may have a point. Clarke seems to be the only person Finn trusts. You should use that.” Monty pats Clarke's shoulder, and she groans.

 

“There has to be another way.” Bellamy closes his eyes carefully.

 

“There is, geniuses.” A voice from outside the tent pierces their conversation, and everyone freezes. The flap opens and Murphy strolls in, arms crossed over his chest. “You know, for a bunch of so called Alpha’s, you really suck at thinking outside the box.” He smirks at Clarke and Bellamy, who glance at each other silently. “Or inside the box.” Murphy’s smirk grows, but when no one gets it, he sighs. “The box is the dropship. Put them- or him, whatever- inside the dropship. Close the door, tighten some bolts, bam, you’ve got yourself a werewolf-proof cage. Complete with security for the rest of us.”

 

“Murphy, I’m only going to say this once non-sarcastically, _ever_ , so make sure you’re listening.” Octavia says menacingly, moving closer to Murphy, who looks at her down his nose. The moment draws itself out until finally, Octavia smirks up at Murphy. “That was a fantastic idea. Thank you.” Murphy matches her smirk.

 

“Anything to help out our Chancellors.” He grins at everyone in the tent, and leaves.

 

“That was-”

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy responds, looking to Clarke. She huffs out a half-laugh and adjusts her position to face him. “So, we close the dropship doors? Keep Finn in there and let everyone else run free?”

 

“We might have an easier time if we kept everyone in there, just for now. Until we figure out what this means, we can’t assume that no one else is capable of what Finn did.” Monty frowns. “I mean everyone, Bellamy.” The meaning of Monty’s statement hits Clarke and Octavia at the same time, and they both begin to protest.

 

“If you think you’re going to lock my brother up in that tin can with someone like Spacewalker you’ve got another-”

 

“We know for a fact that Bellamy isn’t violent and therefore doesn’t need to be kept in the dropship with the rest of them and besides-”

 

“It’s fine.” Bellamy says, quietly, and Clarke and Octavia stop talking. They both look at him expectantly, and he sighs. “It is what it is, even if I hate it.”

 

“Bell, we can just say that since you’re an Alpha you have to stay with Clarke.” Octavia takes a step closer to Bellamy, and he shakes his head.

 

“The worst case scenario here is that Finn gets violent and tries to hurt someone in there. We need someone in there who can stop him from doing that.” Bellamy rests his hand on Octavia’s shoulder, trying to comfort her. “That person is going to be me, O.”

 

“If Lincoln is right, then it’s very unlikely that Bellamy will get hurt.” Monty adds. Octavia just scowls. “Besides, I think we can all agree that Bellamy can totally take Finn in a fight.” This pulls a snort from Octavia.

 

“Of course he can.”

 

“Honestly, who couldn’t?” Clarke asks, and Monty and Octavia laugh.

 

They get to work dispersing the tea and making sure the few who are turning know what’s going to happen. “It’s just a precaution.” Clarke stresses, and to her relief, no one protests.

 

Except for Clarke.

 

Clarke protests.

 

“I know you could definitely take him in a fight,” She says as she approaches Bellamy, who’s resting at the foot of the dropship ramp. He pats the spot next to him and she sits solemnly. “But I still don’t want you all to have to be locked up like this. What if cramped quarters makes them aggressive?” She asks, and Bellamy frowns at her. “You could all tear each other apart.”

 

“As long as you and Octavia are safe, it doesn’t matter what happens to me in there tonight.” Bellamy says quietly, and Clarke huffs at him.

 

“We’ve been over this. We need you.”

 

“Do you?” He asks, and Clarke furrows her brow at him. “I didn’t contribute anything to this plan except a sacrifice. Maybe that’s all I’m meant to be.”

 

“It’s not.” Clarke can’t keep the eye contact up, so she drops her eyes to her hands, which rest in her lap. “We both know you’re much more than that.” She takes a deep breath. “To all of us, Bellamy.”

 

They’re quiet for a while, just the sounds of people settling in for the night filling the air around and between them. Finally, Bellamy speaks. “I’m more worried about you, Princess.” It’s soft, and careful, and maybe even a little tired sounding, but more than anything, it’s genuine. It forces Clarke to remember this morning- which had also been soft, and careful, and genuine. Not just in what he’d said to her, but in how he’d treated her- he knew that she would never be fragile, so he wouldn’t treat her like she was breakable, but he had treated her gently in the way that one lowers their fingers into a stream to feel the current underneath the surface. It was how he was- Bellamy was and always would be a support beam for her structure. And even now, as he prepares himself to _literally_ go into the wolf’s den, he's worried about her.

 

“We can talk about it tomorrow, when you come out of that dropship alive and well.” She says with a stern glare. Bellamy smiles sadly and stands. He offers a hand to her, and she takes it.

 

“I’ll hold you to that.” He’s still got that sad smile on his face, and Clarke wishes that things were easier.

 

“No problem.”

 

“Goodnight, Clarke.”

 

“Good luck, Bell.”

 

He smiles at her as he climbs the ramp into the dropship and closes the door. They hold each others' gaze until the door prevents them from seeing any more. When he's finally out of sight, Clarke turns away slowly.  _I'm not ready for this,_ She thinks, forcing herself to go into her own tent and try to sleep. (If she gives up after a few hours and moves to Bellamy's tent, no one can blame her. When Lincoln catches her trying to sneak back to her own tent before dawn, he just smiles gently and motions for her to go ahead. His gesture tells her that no one will know about this besides them. Her mind goes back to the conversation she'd had with Lincoln a few days ago, knees digging into the dirt, blood rushing to her cheeks in a blush that she wants to forget. But with the way Lincoln smiles at her as she tiptoes past Miller's tent, she knows she'll likely never forget that blush.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live and breathe for comments. Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

When Bellamy opens the dropship door with a grin plastered to his face and his clothes hanging haphazardly from his shoulders, Clarke nearly cries. 

 

Last night had been rough. Not knowing what was happening inside the dropship was killing her- she didn’t sleep, too busy cursing herself for not thinking to ask Raven or Monty if there was a way to build radios. Not that Bellamy would be able to use one while he was turned, but they could have talked until he did and as soon as he was human again.  _ But that doesn’t matter now, _ Clarke thinks as she approaches Bellamy.  _ He’s back. _

 

Octavia reaches him first, smiling bright and happy. As the Blakes have their moment, Clarke does a quick headcount of the delinquents who are now making their way out of the dropship. Jasper comes out with Finn, who touches Clarke’s shoulder. “Can we talk later?” He asks, and Clarke nods. He smiles at her and leaves Jasper to talk about his night in incoherent but excited tones. Clarke is trying to keep up with Jasper’s dialogue when she feels warmth at her side. 

 

“I hear you missed me last night.” Bellamy is smirking at her, unscathed, clean, and giddy, and she just smiles back. 

 

“That’s realistic.” She responds, sarcastic, and Bellamy snorts. 

 

“Monty says you were totally losing your mind without me.”

 

_ He has no idea.  _ “More like regaining some sanity.” They both just sort of smile at each other for a minute, and then Bellamy shakes his head. 

 

“Nothing went wrong, Princess.”

 

“You still threw yourself into the belly of the beast. Apparently you’re Beowulf now.”

 

“Beowulf never got eaten?”

 

“No, but- nevermind.”

 

“No, what were you going to say?”

 

“I was going to say that Beowulf is super strong. So he survived.”

 

“Until that dragon-”

 

“Yes, Bellamy, I know.” They pause, and Jasper moves away, finally noticing that Clarke isn’t listening any more. Bellamy has this look on his face that Clarke can’t describe. “I was trying to compliment you. And thank you.” She finishes, but Bellamy isn’t listening. 

 

“I wonder what my dragon will be.” He says quietly, and Clarke sucks in a breath. 

 

“Nothing, if I get a say. I think I prefer you alive.” She grins at him and he matches it, finally pulling her in for a hug. 

 

“Thanks, Princess.” 

* * *

  
  


They’re busy enough trying to figure out why half of the werewolves turn sporadically that neither of them realize that they still haven’t checked the wreckage from the ship that came from the Ark until two days later. They’re with Murphy in Bellamy’s tent, going over the scheduled shooting classes for the week, when it hits Clarke so hard she has to sit down. She doesn’t respond when they ask her what’s wrong, so Bellamy crouches in front of her, knows his concern laces his brows. 

 

“Murphy, get her some water.” He orders, and Murphy slinks away. Bellamy just looks at her, hesitant to say anything. She’s avoiding his eyes, but he doesn’t need to be looking into her eyes to see how watery they’ve become. “Clarke,” He says it quietly, as not to spook her, but she just lets a sob escape and begins trembling and shaking her head. He swears quietly and takes her hand, squeezing it in a way that he hopes is reassuring.  _ Thank the stars we’re inside, _ Bellamy thinks, racking his brain for a way to calm Clarke down. 

 

“They’re dead,” Clarke gasps, and Bellamy realizes what’s happening. He closes his eyes for a moment, then shifts his way onto his cot and next to Clarke. She leans into him, which he takes as an invitation to slip his arm around her shoulders- It’s not how he’d prefer to comfort her, but Bellamy knows he should just be thankful she’s even letting him try. 

 

“We don’t know who was on that ship.” He says, but Clarke only trembles in response, which is disconcerting. Murphy brings a cup of water and Bellamy holds it up for Clarke to take, but she just shakes her head at him. Murphy takes the cup back from Bellamy and sets it on his makeshift desk, quickly leaving thereafter. Bellamy uses his free hand to grip Clarke's hand. He guides her gently to take deep breaths, which she does, although tears continue to fall from her eyes. When she’s breathing at a normal speed, Bellamy reaches over and brushes the remaining tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “We can send a group out as soon as you’re ready.” 

 

“I want to go with them.” She says quietly, and Bellamy nods, placating. He reaches for the water, left on his desk, and pushes it into her hands, urging her to drink. She does. 

 

“We’ll both go with them.” Bellamy takes the cup from her and sets it on the ground by their feet. “We said we’d talk about this as soon as I came out of the dropship.” It’s a reminder that he doubts Clarke needs. 

 

“Things were busy.” Clarke whispers, and Bellamy sighs. 

 

“I know.”

 

“And I’ve been so focused on figuring this out,” 

 

“I know.” 

 

“I want us to be safe.” 

 

“I know, Princess. You’ve been working harder than anyone to keep us all together.” Bellamy moves to kneel in front of her again. “Even me, which is hard to do.” He’s rewarded with a sad snort that only vaguely resembles the kind that comes from laughter- but it’s enough. 

 

They leave almost two hours later, once Clarke has regained her footing and they’ve decided on who they’ll take with them. It’s a small group, just enough to spread out and still be within hearing distance of each other. Raven is among them, wanting to look for parts. Harper comes too, following along closely behind Clarke and Bellamy at the front. 

 

The wreckage isn’t too far from camp. The walk only takes about an hour, which Bellamy is both grateful and weary for. He hopes that Clarke has steeled herself for what she’s about to see. 

 

Mostly, it’s parts of the ship. There are bodies, plenty of them, but the overwhelming majority of the site is wreckage. After the initial search of the premise, Raven has a field day with ordering the group around. They all have a backpack full of parts when the time comes to head home. 

 

Bellamy finds Clarke squatting in the dirt, away from the rest of the group. He squats next to her, and she sighs. 

 

“None of these are her.”

 

“There aren’t enough bodies here to be the entire population of the Ark, Princess. She could be fine.” He doesn’t dare say  _ probably _ , mostly because they don’t know the probability of it- a fact that he knows Clarke would have no problem pointing out to him. “Let’s get home.”

 

She comes with him quietly, and they remain quiet until they’re about halfway home. Finally, Clarke speaks up. 

 

“We really need Raven to fix the radio.”

 

“Our end is fine. It’s the Ark’s system that’s the issue.” Raven says from behind them. Neither of them had realized she was there. “When this baby detached, it probably caused some problems with the Ark’s radio stability. All we can do is wait.” 

 

“Are we sure that’s all we can do?” Bellamy asks, mostly for Clarke’s sake. Raven huffs. 

 

“I mean, I’ve done everything right down here. There’s no way it’s our fault that they aren’t talking to us. I’ll keep looking, but I’m pretty sure it’s them and not us.”

 

“Thanks.” Clarke says, dry, and Raven grins. 

 

“Sure thing, Chancellor.”

 

They make it home just as night is falling. The group disperses after dropping their salvaged parts off with Raven, but Clarke and Bellamy stay together. They grab their dinner and sit by the fire. 

 

“I’m sure they’re fine, Clarke.” Bellamy says after she’s gone too long without speaking. She’s been staring at the fire for several minutes, and at the sound of his voice, she finally looks away. 

 

“Losing a part of the Ark that big could do incredible things to their stability. They could be hurtling through space in a never ending spiral right now, and there’s nothing we can do.”

 

Bellamy is quiet for a moment. He knows all of that, of course, but Clarke is so hung up on it he doesn’t know what to say. “Exactly,” he settles on, “So why worry about it? Waiting around isn’t all we can do- if we assume that they’re fine, which they could be, then we need to worry about when they come down.” He shifts closer to her as she turns back to the fire. Feeling bold, he rests his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t you want them to come home to a safe, comfortable camp where they can reunite with their children without worrying about splinters?” He asks, and Clarke snickers. They’re quiet for another moment, but he knows that he’s gotten through to her. 

 

“You know, I think you’re full of it.” She finally says, but she’s  _ smiling _ at him, and he can’t help but match it. 

 

“What?”

 

“I think you totally know how much we need you. Otherwise you wouldn’t be giving me speeches like the one you just gave.” She turns away from the fire so that she’s facing him, and he feels his heart swell with affection. 

 

“I wish that were true, Princess, but really-”

 

“No, you absolutely know.”

 

“Clarke, I-”

 

“Bell, no one who isn’t sure of himself would talk like that.”

 

“That isn’t-”

 

“I can see right through you, Blake.”

 

“We both know that isn’t true.” He says, and her smile widens. 

 

“Then, what don’t I know? I bet you can’t name one thing.” She nudges his shoulder with hers, and he feels something stutter in his chest.  _ Is this flirting? _

 

“My favorite color.” 

 

“Green.” She says immediately, and he laughs quietly. 

 

“Why green?” He asks, and she looks away. He thinks he sees a bit of pink staining her cheeks. 

 

“You’re…. You’re earthy. Green is an earthy color.” She’s still looking away, but Bellamy doesn’t mind. 

 

“So is brown. And blue.” 

 

“Statistically, people don’t usually think of the color of their eyes as their favorite color. And you’re not a blue person.” 

 

“I like blue plenty.”

 

“But it’s not your favorite, is it?” She’s looking at him again, and he shrugs. 

 

“Maybe it is.”  _ It definitely is, _ he thinks, watching the fire as it’s reflected against her eyes, which she rolls at him. “Tell me what my favorite part of Earth is, if I’m so transparent.” 

 

“The freedom. The opportunities. Seeing your sister interact with people who aren’t you or your mom. Being in charge of yourself for once.” She lists, and he loses his breath after she mentions his sister. “You like the  _ living _ part of Earth, the part where you can be honest.” She shoots him a small smile, which he’s sure he matches without thinking.  _ She’s beautiful. _

 

“I also like the sex.” He blurts, and it’s so sudden that even Clarke laughs at him. And laugh at him she does. He ducks his head, pleased with making her laugh like that, but also embarrassed for not thinking before he spoke. But now that he is thinking, he realizes he wants that with her. Sex, but also this laughter that’s still peeling out of her, and the  _ flirting _ and  _ touching  _ and  _ sharing  _ and  _ comfort _ \- he wants everything with her. Waking up with her legs tangled in his and her smell lingering on his bed the way it has been the past few days. Eating dinner with her and feeling safe. The ease of words that makes her walls lower, just enough so that she’d laugh- she’s still laughing- at his crude jokes rather than hate him for them. To take care of her if and when she loses someone else that she’s loved, because it’s inevitable on this planet. He just wants  _ her _ , in all the different ways that he could possibly have her. 

 

“I mean,” She breathes, still recovering from her laughter. “I think everyone does, to be fair.” He’s still reeling from his realization, so it takes him a minute to respond. 

 

“But not you.” She gives him a look and he grins. He’s known for ages that he’s attracted to her. He really has. But now, as he watches her turn back to the fire, still smiling (Because of him), he knows that it’s more than that. 

 

“Not on Earth, at least.” She says quietly, and Bellamy almost chokes. “Maybe someday.” She manages to sigh playfully. “I guess for some of us, someday was day one, right?” Bellamy doesn’t respond to that, but their smiles remain on their faces. They finish their meal. 

 

* * *

  
  


The next morning is the coldest thing that anyone (besides Lincoln) has ever experienced. People are refusing to leave their tents, it’s so cold. Even Clarke drags one of her furs out with her when she finally emerges. Bellamy meets her halfway to the fire and they hunch down together in its warmth. 

 

“We really need to prioritize building cabins as number one on our list.” Clarke shivers and Bellamy resists an urge to pull her against him. He knows his body temperature is higher than hers, but he can’t bring himself to be so bold so early in the morning. 

 

“Sure,” He says, but his tone must give him away, because Clarke turns to him sharply. She squints at him until he sighs. “Maybe that should be tied for number one on our list with like, that other thing.” 

 

“Oh. Yeah. Wolf men.” She huffs and her breath fogs in front of her, startling them both. Then they laugh. “Well, today is the fourth day since Anya said they would come soon. They should either come today or tomorrow.”

 

“We should talk to everyone, tell them to be friendly. We want to seem hospitable.” Bellamy adds, and Clarke nods. 

 

It takes them nearly an hour, but they do manage to get everyone outside, if only briefly, to tell them what to expect when the Grounders come. There’s little to no disagreement, presumably because everyone wants to get back inside. Finn is the only person who dwells once the group has dispersed. Bellamy and Clarke share a look. 

 

“I’ll give you a minute?” He says, and it’s a question, because Clarke has been clear about how she feels about Finn. Bellamy is hesitant to leave them alone. But Clarke nods, and even if she does sigh as she does, he pats her shoulder and walks away. 

 

He leaves them alone, but he doesn’t go far. He listens to them from the canteen, hoping that the way he’s just staring at the water as he listens is subtle. He can’t hear much, but what he does hear is concerning. He thinks he hears the words  _ love  _ and  _ please _ and  _ stop this _ , but without being able to hear the whole conversation, he can’t be sure what it’s about. 

 

It isn’t long before she storms away from Finn, blanket still tugged around her shoulders like a cape. She’s angry as she approaches the drop ship, and Bellamy isn’t sure he wants to follow. He’s been on the other end of her rage, and he’s weary to approach it again. 

 

He’s still hesitating by the time Murphy finds him, cradling a swollen hand and sneering over his shoulder. “I don’t know and I don’t want to know what’s going on, but she’s yours so it’s your job to fix this.” Murphy sticks his thumb out to indicate the drop ship, and inside it, Clarke. He winces as he pulls his thumb, presumably injured, back to his chest. “She kicked me out before I could even tell her what happened.” He says, quieter, and Bellamy sighs. Poor Murphy had just been trying to get some help, and he ended up more hurt than he’d been when he went in. (It’s easy for Bellamy to forget that his people are all teenagers- Murphy isn’t any older than Octavia, and regardless of what Bellamy knows he’s capable of, he’s just someone trying to get by.) Bellamy nods. 

 

“I’ve got her.” He says, and Murphy nods. 

 

He finds her kicking the table that she’s been using as an examination table and trying to hold the blanket around herself more tightly. He sighs, coming up behind her. “Clarke,” He says quietly, and she spins around. Her cheeks are red and she huffs at him, agitated. 

 

“He said that he wishes we’d met on the Ark. He said he thinks we should be together.” She sneers, not holding back. She’s pissed. “Raven is fucking  _ here _ . She’s fucking laying in their tent, happy to be back with the man she loves, and he’s pestering me about a crush that he damn well knows doesn’t matter.” She kicks the table again, gentler, and Bellamy steps forward, reaching out to touch her arm. “I’ve told him, Bellamy. I keep telling him that he isn’t what I want. That he should be looking out for his amazing, intelligent, beautiful, brave,  _ insane _ girlfriend.” Clarke pulls herself up onto the table, blowing a loose strand of hair from her eyes as she does. “The girl launched herself through space to be with him. He doesn’t get to throw that away over me.” 

 

Bellamy pulls himself up to sit next to her. It’s quiet for a long moment as he tries to draw the words that he’s thinking into a coherent phrase. 

 

“You’re right. He’s a dick,” Clarke snorts half-heartedly at him. “And you should be pissed. I’m pissed, and I have little to no involvement with this.” (Later, Octavia would stick her nose in the air and say “Of course you’re involved, idiot.”) He takes a deep breath. He isn’t sure if he’s ready to say this. He’s not even sure if it’s what she needs to hear. But she’s looking at him quietly and offering part of the blanket to his chilling legs, so he smiles, leaning into her a little. “You deserve better than to be harassed.” Clarke ducks her head for a moment, but holds his gaze as he continues. “But you  _ are _ incredible.” 

 

Clarke’s eyes widen then drop to her lap as her hands come together so one can pick at the nails on the other. They sit quietly for a moment, and when she does finally speak, it’s still quiet. “That’s not-”

 

“Clarke,” Sterling pushes himself into the room just as Bellamy’s heart begins to fall. “Scouts say that there’s a group of grounders heading our way. Now. Fast.” Clarke stands to follow Sterling out, and Bellamy joins her. 

 

Monty, Octavia, Lincoln, Miller, and Murphy are waiting for them when Sterling leads them out of the dropship. Monty is bouncing on his toes anxiously, despite Miller’s quiet urgings for him to calm down. (Although clearly only meant for Monty’s ears, the whole group can hear Miller’s mutterings. “You can trust me. If no one else, I’ll take care of you.” They elect to ignore him.) No one seems to know why Murphy is there, but no one is pushing for him to leave, either. 

 

“We’ve been over what to do. They aren’t here to hurt us.” Bellamy plants his hands on his hips, ignoring the way he and Clarke are standing. (They’d naturally come to stand together, with him slightly behind her and off her shoulder. A backup.) 

 

“If we seem aggressive towards them, they’ll become aggressive towards us.” Clarke adds. 

 

“And we need this. A lot. So keep your eyes down and only speak when spoken to.” Octavia says, and Murphy snorts. 

 

“Not quite the friendly welcome our leaders were probably going for.” Murphy says dryly, and Octavia sneers at him. 

 

“He’s right. Just be welcoming. Try to keep anyone who might want to start something with the Grounders out of sight.” Clarke shifts, and now she’s practically leaning against Bellamy’s chest. 

 

“For as long as possible.” His voice doesn’t come out as strong as he’d hoped it would. Thankfully, the only one to notice is Octavia. 

 

“Should we be honest about everything?” Miller asks, and Monty’s eyes widen. Miller takes another step closer to him. “I mean, Raven is building radios, and we have  _ guns _ . If we keep that a secret and they find out later on, it could start a war.” Clarke looks over her shoulder to Bellamy, who shrugs. If they tell them, they lose any element of surprise they might have if war ever does happen. But Miller has a point. They both look to Lincoln. 

 

“I suggest that you be as honest with them as possible. He’s right,” Lincoln nods to Miller, who nods back. “My people see secrets as a reason to start a war.”

 

“Trust is the foundation of every relationship.” Raven joins them in their circle. Finn is nowhere to be seen. She raises an eyebrow at Bellamy. 

 

“Give them answers to their questions. Don’t overshare.” Bellamy says, maintaining eye contact with Raven across the circle. They all nod, and Monty’s feet come to a rest on the ground. “That’s what we told everyone to do.” They all nod again. 

 

“Does anyone else need to rehash anything?” Clarke asks, and no one says anything. “Just do your jobs and be polite. Even you, John.” She nods at Murphy, and he rolls his eyes. Without another word, they disperse. 

 

Bellamy finds himself with Raven in the comms tent, where she happily shows him the radios she’s building and how they work. They aren’t talking for long before a commotion interrupts them, begging their attention outside.

 

Bellamy would like to think that he’s seen a lot of embarrassing moments in his life. He also likes to think that he has experienced his fair share of blood-boiling, ears-fuming, face-reddening, infuriating moments. But  _ never  _ has he so quickly gone from fine to furious as he does as he takes in the scene in front of him. 

 

The scene is laid out like this: Finn, on his knees in front of Clarke, who looks mortified. Miller, standing at the top of the gate, half watching, half helping one of the younger boys pull the gate open. Grounders, slowly entering the camp, throwing curious looks around, but mostly at Finn, who grabs Clarke’s hands. Octavia and Lincoln emerging from their tent to greet the Grounders, freezing the same way Bellamy and Raven have frozen. The way everyone has frozen- as though they’re waiting for the impact of this humiliating moment to land. Bellamy can’t move until Raven tries to take a step forward- he puts a hand out to stop her, and she does. 

 

“Clarke,” Finn has his back to Bellamy and Raven, but even so, Bellamy can hear the look on his face. “I don’t know why you’re pushing me away now, but-” He sucks in a shaky breath, like this is hard on him. “But we have something.” Bellamy clenches his jaw as he watches Clarke’s eyes widen. 

 

“Finn, we don’t-”

 

“Let me finish.” Finn cuts her off, and a Grounder scoffs on the other side of camp. Bellamy appreciates the sentiment. “I think I love you, and that’s not all.” Finn shuffles closer to Clarke’s feet, and she grimaces. “I- I heard you talking to Lincoln that day. I know I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping,” Finn actually  _ chuckles _ , like he thinks this is going in his favor. “But I was so intrigued. And I’ll tell you why, Clarke.” He pauses, apparently just for dramatic effect, because he just stares at Clarke for a second before she tilts her head at him, waiting. “It’s because I think  _ we’re  _ bonded, Clarke.” Now Clarke scoffs, and it almost makes Bellamy grin. “I think we were made for each other, and I don’t want to waste any more time not being with you.” At that, he clambers to his feet and leans closer to Clarke, who shoves him off of her. He falls to the ground, and pouts up at her. Clarke just shakes her head and looks around, still horrified to have created a spectacle. Everyone is still frozen, waiting for the punchline. Bellamy lifts his foot to approach Clarke- to try and fix this, because even though his anger is still simmering hot, Clarke looks like she’s about to cry, she’s so embarrassed, and she’s his priority- when a voice, loud and thick, cuts through the silence. 

 

“Lincoln, you told us this clan was powerful. You did not say they were capable of the impossible.” A woman with cropped short hair who stands to the right of Anya says, loud enough to be heard in all corners of camp. The Grounders laugh, boisterous and unaffected by the scene, and it doesn’t take much for the delinquents to join. Soon, the majority of camp is doubled over with laughter, and Finn decides to scramble away. Bellamy glances to Raven, who, for a moment, stares at the spot where Finn just was, jaw clenched, then spins on her heel and goes back into the communication tent. Bellamy sighs and finally takes a step towards Clarke, who’s still frozen in shock and humility at the center of camp. 

 

“Did that just happen?” She asks as soon as he rests his hand on her elbow. She’s staring at the spot where Finn had been, his boot prints still pressed into the dirt. Bellamy clenches and unclenches his jaw. 

 

“Let’s get you a minute, Princess.” He murmurs, pulling her into the dropship and motioning for her to climb the ladder. She takes a deep breath, scrubs her face over, and climbs. 

 

Once they’re both locked in the second floor of the dropship, Clarke just sits. She rests her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands, fingers in her hair, and sits in silence until he joins her on the floor. 

 

“What the fuck?” She whispers, and Bellamy snorts. 

 

“You’ve got to admit,” He whispers back, and she peeks out from behind her hands at him. “He’s got great timing.” Clarke scoffs, then huffs, then lets out a breathy laugh. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, I guess he does.” She giggles, and Bellamy smiles fondly at her. “I think….” She frowns, but she’s still sort of smiling, bewildered. “I think that was the most….  _ Teenagery  _ thing to happen since we came down.” When she finishes, she glances to Bellamy for confirmation, and he nods. 

 

“And it was humiliating.” He adds, and she groans. 

 

“And it was  _ mortifying _ .” She hides in her hands again, and Bellamy nudges her shoulder with his. 

 

“At least  _ they  _ thought it was funny.” He offers, and she nods. She sighs, leaning her head back against the wall and letting her hands dangle over her knees. 

 

“At least.” She closes her eyes for a second, a bemused smile on her face. “ _ Stars,  _ what the  _ fuck? _ ” She’s still whispering. Bellamy grins. 

 

They’re still sitting in silence when the hatch to the first floor opens, and Murphy’s head pops through, scanning the room quickly before his eyes land on the pair. He smirks. “Hey, Miss Popular.” Clarke groans and rolls her eyes, but laughs, too. “Your guests are looking for you. Can they come up?” Murphy asks, and Clarke nods. Bellamy pulls himself up, then offers a hand up to Clarke, which she takes.  

 

The only people to come through the hatch are Anya, the woman from before- the one who’d stood to Anya’s right side, just as she does now- and Lincoln. They stand across the room from Clarke and Bellamy, and the silence is almost uncomfortable. Then, Clarke crosses the room and holds a hand out to Anya. 

 

“It’s good to have you here, Anya.” She says, then turns to the new woman. “My name is Clarke Griffin. This is my partner, Bellamy Blake.” They shake hands, and although the woman’s face remains skeptical, she raises an eyebrow to Bellamy in acknowledgment. 

 

“Indra,” She says, and Clarke smiles. 

 

“It’s good to meet you, Indra.”

 

“The same to you.” Indra responds. 

 

“We are glad to be here.” Anya speaks up, and Bellamy steps forward. 

 

“I don’t think we’ve met,” He says, and Anya nods. 

 

“I know who you are and you know who I am. That’s all that matters.” She steps around him, effectively putting space between the two sets of leaders. Clarke glances at Bellamy, caution in her eyes. “We are here to discuss how we can help each other. Heda has approved of our treaty, so you will be protected from the other clans as long as we are joined.”

 

“That’s wonderful. Thank you for-” 

 

“You live in tents now, but half of our party will stay with you to begin constructing more secure homes for you.” Anya cuts Clarke off. Clarke and Bellamy glance at each other. 

 

“We should try to have a few extra cabins in case our people need them when they come down.” Clarke says, almost mutters, because they can both feel the condescending looks that Anya and Indra are shooting at them. Bellamy nods. 

 

“Interesting that you want to take care of the people who will not take care of you.” Anya says, and Clarke’s head snaps up, but Anya has already moved on to talking about a perimeter for the delinquents to stay within. 

 

“There is one more thing.” Indra interjects just as Bellamy thinks the meeting is drawing to a close. Anya nods, and the mood shifts again, to a darker tone. 

 

“We are aware that your pack will turn unpredictably.” Anya starts, and Bellamy bristles, stepping closer to Clarke. “We only bring this up because, the last  _ hilmon _ , the body of a  _ regen _ was found on your side of the river, ripped apart.” 

 

“It was the kind of butchery that can only be achieved by someone of  _ rulfska.” _ Indra adds, and Anya agrees with a hum. “This was not done by one of our men.”

 

“Which means, Clarke, Bellamy, that you have a  _ poysen min _ among you. Someone who loses themselves when they turn.” Anya looks at Bellamy now. “We suggest you find who it is and turn them to us. We will ensure that no one of ours or yours is hurt any more.”

 

Clarke and Bellamy are both too stunned to speak, can only listen as Lincoln hurriedly whispers translations of the Trigedasleng to them.  _ Full moon. Rogue one. Wolf skin. Poisoned mind.  _ Their eyes lock for a long moment before Clarke turns back to Anya and nods. 

 

“We will do our best to find the, er,  _ rulfska  _ who did this. No one else will be hurt.” She says, and extends her hand to Anya, who gives her an approving look, and shakes on the promise. 

 

When Anya finally tells Indra to find them somewhere to sleep, Bellamy sighs. Looking at Clarke, he can tell they’re both drained. Anya and Indra are both so intense, and as much as they had talked about it before, neither of them had been prepared for the bombshell that the Grounder women had just dropped on them. 

 

As Anya begins her descent down the ladder, Indra steps close to Clarke, her eyes softening for a moment. “You and your people will be happy here. We both want that for you.” She says quietly, and after Clarke nods, startled, Indra follows Anya down the ladder and back into camp. 

 

It’s several hours later when Bellamy is sitting on his bedroll, letting the success and the failure of the day sweep over him. He’s exhausted, ready to slip into his blankets and sleep for hours- and he’s doing it, pulling himself into a sleeping position, when the flap to his tent whips open, and Clarke, stumbling a little, stomps in. 

 

“Clarke?” Bellamy sits up, forgetting his plans to pass out. Clarke huffs.    
  


“Raven broke up with Finn.” She says in lieu of greeting. Bellamy stares. 

 

“And?”

 

“So she needs a tent.” 

 

“Did you-”

 

“I gave her mine.”

 

“You aren’t going to share one?” He asks, and Clarke sighs, dropping her small bag of presumably clothes and stomping over to join him on his bedroll. 

 

“I didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already are by making her share a tent with me. I’m sure I’m the last person she’d like to room with right now.” Clarke explains, and Bellamy nods. He understands. 

 

“So where are you going?”

 

Clarke is quiet for a long moment. Her brow creases and uncreases so many times that Bellamy reaches out and presses his thumb to the spot between her eyebrows, which makes her eyes shoot up to his. He drops his hand. 

 

“I was thinking I could stay with you. If that’s okay.” She finally answers, and she’s barely got the sentence out before he’s nodding. 

 

“Here,” He says, motioning to his bedroll- He’d noticed when she came in that she didn’t have one with her, which made sense. She’d probably given it to Raven. “You can take my roll until we get another.” Clarke doesn’t argue, and they shift until Bellamy is on the ground with a blanket, looking up at Clarke, in his bed, frowning down at him. 

 

“You can’t be comfortable down there.”

 

“I’m not, but it’s hopefully only for tonight.” He answers, and she sighs. “I’ll go first thing in the morning and put together another bedroll for myself. For one night, this is fine.” He reassures. Clarke frowns, but burrows further into his pile of blankets. “We need to talk about the thing.”

 

“Yes, we do.” Clarke responds lazily. Bellamy huffs at her. “Your bed is really comfortable.” She whispers, and he can’t help but laugh a little, watching her bask in his layered mattress. 

 

“Thanks, Princess.” He whispers back, and she gives a contented little sigh. Bellamy lets his eyes close, lets himself forget for a moment that they’ve been tasked with finding a murderer, and falls asleep to the sound of Clarke’s breaths evening out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy. Am late. Oops. Remedied. Working on it. Not sure when next chapter will be up. Lol. 
> 
> Please Comment So That I Develop A Sense Of Responsibility To Update. Much Appreciated. <3


End file.
